This dance feels resurrected
Right down to the cherry stains on your sleeve
And the tapestries that look like iron will
But are really shadows cleverly woven to imply it.
I can not see here
The lights are too low
But sometimes things are better seen
When lit by the lanterns of the mind instead.
They look brighter
Closer to real
Than real could ever be.
We were here once before
A thousand years ago give or take a century.
I spoke with a carnelian tongue
You tasted like pomegranate seeds.
Going back there again
Carrying that same tune
I lost my breath
You gave me yours
You held me
Copyright © Shannon Hilson | Year Posted 2005