Leaf through these pages

Thousands of letters

Dancing in a sinkapace

Darting before your eyes

Trying to catch them

They draw you in

Fixing you with

A well-placed word

One that cuts you

Or one that heals

You’re part of the dance

Falling in step

With a visual rhythm

A verbal touch

Guiding you

Across the floor

A forgotten voice

Long since passed

Takes you by the hand

This room is the door

Between the living

And the dead

Everything is suspended

Free from time

Dancing without form

A meeting of the minds

A welcome accord

— B.

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