As your shadow dances across the moon
I bow my head filled with gloom
What I have seen pass before
Isn’t worth much anymore.
Had we danced one last dance?
Had we given it one more chance?
Would the past haunt me so?
Would these demons let me go?
As your voice whispers on the chilling breeze
I halt all motion and listen to the wind.
When will you be back this way again?
Theresa Smith
MrsSmithsLifeUnexpected 