Perishable

Perishable David J Walker as words spoken of love with heat but not taken to heart while the cold of hate echoes well into the night let the dance continue until exhaustion claims the pallor from the cheeks of the last flight as the dancers stumble and the poet's mumble brilliant verses that no one else may hear the perfectly clean and clear waters held in hands parish between fingers and thumbs evaporating later to become a sheet of freezing fog