In circles and cycles we dance to the beat of a drum.
only she hears it so only she lead.
Surrounded by men of varied tastes all waiting for there turn to cut in.
Passing the time by pondering precisely how it is she ticks
While I know
Truly
Oh baby
She tocks
when I met her she was all leather and spikes
when she met me I was all black and bats.
That was some time ago and now as I watch her walk away from me again
She leaves
Flowers
In her foot prints
In the dirt.
So abruptly the dance will stop that my head may continue to spin and the only thing I’ve to hold on to, white knuckled as I’ve become are circles and cycles .
Relying on the begging being like the end and banking on the cycles of season.
passing time in thought till again I can watch her leave,
Flowers
In her foot prints
In the snow