T.A. Rosenbaum

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Tale Of The Dancers

Never touching, always bending, swaying, without refrain
Dance and hope, our swirling figures brush
The rush, so simple, a temple, you and I
Why is it never embrace? No trace, of time gone by
Save the one that's left in the mind, not behind
With you and I, we cannot deny, but must try, to restrain
Though we know not why.
Gently, spirit, gently, this life-fire, will tire, but we'll be evermore
In the mists and shadows, where none go, we'll flow

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