The Dance Can Not Complete Itself.

First sight – a white room warming
New life – the smell of morning
Fresh and rosy fingered dawn
Comes with blackbirds swarming

The dance can not complete itself.

Dream with me of brighter skies
Of answers to the question why
Why it is we live to die
To try, yet always fail.

Sail with me the ocean eyes of my goddess undressed.

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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