Going in Circles

 Going in Circles

They’d start at Point A and end up at Point Z

It wasn’t the usual predictable zigzag routine.

She would turn left; he would turn right. No matter which way he went, she kept him in sight.

He’d see a bird in the air when nothing was there.

She’d touch the back of a chair, the burden to bear.

Of words written in madness, intertwined all about.

Too often the knotting just led to a shout.

From Point Far to Point Within

The dance continued with its inward spin.

Dig shallow, dig deep

As the Thief stole sleep.