Music Box Love
A music box,
Within the vault of time,
Hangs silent and still,
As the dancer steps softly.
Forward in time she comes,
With raised arms and swirling skirts,
The dance begins again.
With her smile she beckons
And the full moon tilts downward,
Setting us aflame with cold fire.
Into the amber haze
Her swaying body hurries us along
As we follow in the dance.
Soon weary of the chase,
She leaves us on our own.
We await the winding,
As Dawn, tempting, lures away the night.
And the music begins again.
Copyright © Jean Bush | Year Posted 2018
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