'round and 'round

Burning deep, burning bright

Are their souls tonight.

Blood torn were his hands, tear-scarred were her cheeks.

His climb atop the towering tree had let his sadness take flight,

Leaving him with the understanding locked behind astute eyes.

Talking to the wind, her dark mane tossed ‘bout –she knew they rather glance upon strands that teased days’ brilliant skies.

However, she imbued the solitary moonlight.

Shamed of fusing their eyes, for his were so very, very bright

-and hers more like the night.

His intensity being so captivating,

All she wanted was to dance.

She needed to dance –

Around him, Beside him, Within him.

Faster, Faster to the beat of his heart,

Faster, Faster to never stop!

Needing the world to spin ‘round and ‘round.

For it is a circus clown,

-the painted smile, the painted tear

Always laughing to hide the fear.