Meet me in
the morrow
lands as light
entwines and
weaves,
we’ll watch the
bronze sceptre
of the trees.

Take my hand
through autumn;
waltz amongst
the falling
leaves,
dance with me
a while up-
-on the breeze.

Count with me
the steps as
we, dance our
whole lives through …

“One - two - three
Two - two - three
Three - two - three”

  … and I’ll fall,
in love with
        you.

We can’t blame words
for showing us truths
that make us cry
or selling us lies
that make us fall in love so hard
the north wind knocks from us

We can’t praise words
for revealing paradise
allowing us to stroll there
quiet, some days,
and know better

We can only intone the syllables,
wrestle syntax to some semblance
of meaning
for the clicks, croons and chatter
we utter, or fix in lines
for others to know us