A dreaming haze
These dancing days around my head.
Peals of laughter
Mine full of delight
Yours filled only with fear
That cold bark of humor
Knowing the final hour is near.
I lead you deeper as the hours pass us by
Far past the darkening tree line
Your hand trapped firmly
In the steady grip of mine.
Rarely do I feel adrenaline
In such a rush as this
Barely, this emotion peaks
In volcanic joy about my head.
One swift turn has swept you off your feet,
Dragging through the mossy underbrush
Your crooked form reminiscent of a time long ago
Bracken catches in your clothes;
I remember late night phone calls
A music box wound underwater
Playing deep sea magic from the other end
Transmitting one last signal
"He is never coming home again".