The Dance


on a Moroccan carpet worn, long before we both were born

we sat, exchanging colours... love growing wild

you pulled a future photograph you kept in an old cedar chest

saying, “wonder what i’ll look like one day... when i’m a child?”


this is how we learn the dance... anticipate the unseen glance

until we sense each other’s movements with our eyes closed


i heard a crackle in the draft and asked, “is that the phonograph?”

you laughed, “i put the records away two hours ago”

you said, “i’m not afraid of candlelight”

your voice a lapping new moon tide

who are these spirits here with us and what do they know?


i started strumming a guitar... sometimes it shows me who we are

your lips stained red from wine sips... your toes a metronome

‘twas darker then, with brighter stars

reflecting on earth’s skin and ours

we synchronized our heartbeats so we’re never alone


you said, “i’m not afraid of candlelight”

your voice a lapping new moon tide

who are these spirits here with us and what do they know?



Words by David Delmar. ©2000



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