Across dry plains the tumbleweed dances
off the dusty floor
As a renounced ballerina reminisces
in her old studio
On the corner of the street
towards the west
following the sun
where all dreams go
And where the wind carries the tumbleweed.
The air rustles in the drift
as she sighs
Breathing in the dusty smell
of the grass
Of the room
where she once performed
for her beloved
now carried away
by the same wind
that carries tumbleweeds
and caused dust to dance.
A tear soaks the wooden floor
a small relief from the barren span
for the lonely ballerina
who is forever carried
along the scalding land.
Lost.
Like words unsaid
on lips untouched
cracked by the sun
where all dreams go
And where the wind carries the tumbleweed.