dancing on white sand
there was a number
maybe there were two or three
that when put together
added up to something
like an old fashioned love song
half notes and quarter notes
bounce off amphitheater rooftops
drifting into the cloudless sky
slowly dissolving like helium
balloons and unbridled kites
spiders and bears and
little tea kettles crawl through
open backlit space
giving chase to new ideas
dying to be composed
they say the song lives on
riding falling stars
content with returning to earth
surfing atop ocean waves
seeking a brand new dance floor
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
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