brodi

A Poem

The Immortals

Two people dancing on crowded streets
Not too many people know what's going on beneath
Time stands still but for a moment
No more people on these crowded streets

Trees wane in this silent moment
Lacking motion when all notions are stolen
Decay of thought in the storm of the night
Only feeling of sinking will stand upright

And in this heat, two immortals are broken
To fit their pieces when reasons are spoken
Mix and match whatever you catch
But stay away when emotions fall prey
To a busy day where your luggage won't stay

All this clatter might never shatter; it doesn't matter
It's not this that I'm after; The latter
It's not this that I'm after, but rather
The place where we always stay and
We'll pace whatever rhythms that sway and we may
Never again have the romance of our stance

On these crowded streets