Concept to Fruition--Birth of a Song: Phase Three

~The Song~

Two statuettes frozen in a tango of indifference,
steps once familiar, now forgotten
as the memories of time slowly waltz away.


A faded memory in the palm of his hand,
aged with the passing of the years unfair.
Locks of hair froze like Heaven's sand;
as sleek auburn flames held mid-air.

caught in a corner of Kodachrome
fruits of her labor trailing in line
he said and she said in monotone
hooked inspiration and flowing to time

"And he wishes he had told her something she could hold on to
While the vine was slowly dying mid the harvest and the dew
But he tried to be her savior with his sermons on the mount
He'd give all he's ever spoken for a moment of her sound."

Frozen moments preserved as painful reminders;
The vibrant autumn of their harvest moving to frost and chill.
Their scripted sweet nothings no more than twists and one-liners,
Lust for sculpted bodies fleeing in cowardly overkill.

Trapped in a frame work of neat status quo
Changes unspoken appearing sublime
Resonance of silenced fear apropos
Her memory lingers to dance in his mind

"And he wishes he had told her something she could hold on to
While the vine was slowly dying mid the harvest and the dew
But he tried to be her savior with his sermons on the mount
He'd give all he's ever spoken for a moment of her sound."

Two statuettes frozen in a tango of indifference,
steps once familiar, now forgotten
as the memories of time slowly waltz away.