The earthen hues,
The reds of fire,
The flashes odd of shell and stone,
An arm, a wrist, two hands raised higher
A dance,
A frozen pose.
The silence of the rhythm swaying
The firelight, the gentle steps,
The music weaving in and out, and in --
A shadow of the dance.
The night is deep, the song is deeper,
Yet it's the girl who draws the notes:
Her arm, her wrist, her hands raised higher,
The blue of air
The gold of fire
The trembling breath of spirits sighing;
Black starlight in her eyes...
She's crying
The tears of her ghosts.

Tango March 2003

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