Grand is the waltz of time in which life leads us.
She keeps the beat, her metronome slowly ticking at first.
It's a beautiful dance of conflict and trust;
And half way through life picks up the pace.
Twirling you faster and harder than she must.
The pace doesn't slow, like a truck without brakes.
Till the music fades, and life goes away with the dust.
Then as if nothing happens, death gently grips your hand.
Intending on continuing the dance as he must.