A Dance in Silent Violins

And yes, she went down dancing
To the tunes of a fall. Enchanted.
Upon the fingers of the lesser known kids
Where her shadow glowed until the glory.
Upon the fingers of the lesser known kids
Still too drenched within her tears. [whisper]
And yes, “I never cry” she says.

Children stare inside my window.
Children stare outside my heart.
Children stare, some mornings,
At each other.
They do.
Stare.

Stair
The place she sat with ‘em
Telling them stories. The unfinished folklore
The moral not quite in place; the smile always.
She rushed down as I came and I said “don’t”. Always.
And yes, she went down dancing
To the tunes of a fall. Enchanted, as ever.
No one tells the kids their unfinished folklore
No one tells me why kids were drawn to her
Like children to their mothers.
And yes, “we don’t cry” they said.
“We never cry.”

And yes, she goes down dancing
Dancing to the silence of my violin
She goes down, every time, these days
And I pick her in my arms
And I pick her in my heart. In our hearts
We go down dancing.
And yes, “we don’t cry” we say
“We can’t cry”