The sky hung in coloured threads
Music wiped away our dread
Our senses are drawn out
Into another world, no doubt

Spiralling through the forest
This dance we love the best
Makes contact, brushed aside, and Ping!
Gently wipes away the string

Where she treads there is left
A burning pattern in my mind, until, bereft
She leaves the stage: a hollow room
Where twisted cords adorn the gloom

And now unfolds an image bare
A crazy dance inside: I stare
At emptiness but see there still
Another dancer wild and free
That spins crazily
Through the vortex of my mind.


Copyright © Christopher J. Hudson  1996