Every leave taking flight to fall,
No longer “a still life watercolor”.
Now tiny dancers, this Dangling Conversation.
From early morning, till “now late afternoon”,
Each descent, a passion of air-bound persuasion.
Alas, what may be left of the “curtained lace”?
But an eager sanction for retreat.
“Couched in our indifference”, we concede
Until the next falling, this Dangling Conversation.
“And the superficial sighs”, so outspoken,
In appreciation this recital.
As “The borders of our lives” in freefall,
To be like them, for this brief movement in time.
“And you read your Emily Dickinson”
And embrace the grace.
“And I my Robert Frost”
And grace the embrace.
‘Tis this season, cherish what was gained,
Naysay, “That measure what we’ve lost” so vain.
And for a spellbound moment written,
within this time “we are verses out of rhythm”.
A seasonal dance romances a rewind,
“In syncopated time” now well defined.
These Heavenly dancers from Thy sky,
Praytell leaves “speak of things that matter”.
Can paralysis be pledged, nor
“Is this theater really dead”!
And now “the room is softly faded”,
But fear “a stranger now unto me”.
Well aligned “in the borders of our lives”.
In the borders of our dreams, superficial highs.
Once upon a “Dangling Conversation”
Credits: “ “(Thanks to Simon & Garfunkel) & Copyright 2017 MSK Media
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