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It’s that dark dance I hear now:
raucous clangs wake the past,
throw my young self into view.
The constant thud makes today’s song different
another verse for the year, but damning.
There’s no Samba stealing my feet,
just a broken ballad dragging the day.
I hear one voice crying
and know the choir has dispersed:
lively words seized by rests and minims.
Each beat won’t clap in time
or play a shriek of excitement.
It’s a low, sluggish dance
edging under the ground.
Gather these sounds
and feel them splinter.
Background: My love of music came into this. I play the piano and saxophone.
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