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.