Windows open
soft sea breeze blowing in
the hollow room, empty
forgotten.
Where the golden beam of a lighthouse traces bridges
to another world
on the wall.
There was a dance here, on the floor
faded yellow wood——
we stood.
And I cried, wept
into my sky blue dress
whose sleeves still hold our songs, soaked in.
Time washed, tearstained
lost at sea and broken up with waves,
echoes of us
live here…
Dreams that return and return again.
And we watch them play out,
backwards.
All of our best and worst memories collide
and echo
like dancers
on hardwood floors.
Spinning and spinning and spinning
no more.
