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You are my dancing musical.
You make my heart beat once again,
With the running rhyme that carries my soul,
And the miraculous melody that heals my pain.

You are my life long story.
Can you hear me crying in the street,
Telling treacherous tails of failure and glory,
And numerous novels that bring wind to my feet.

You are my brilliant painting.
You make my hand reach out to touch,
The terrific texture of life slowly fading,
And the creative colors cause my blood to rush.

You are my memorise drama.
You break the mask that hides my face,
From the horrific horror of life's long trauma,
To the carousing comedy that keeps me in pace.

You are my spontaneous dance.
You break the chains that bind my expression,
From the freely flowing form that allows me to prance,
And the ranting rhythm wanting interpretation.

By Aimee R.M. Condon