Drifting Under The Moon

POLONAISE

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Scar silence with faint music

from a sick childhood,

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darkness with a silhouette

of a lost love,

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isolation with the company of a woman

who lost peace.

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Otherwise leave me dancing with all three

in the drawing room of middle age

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tinged with absence,

culled from a pure memory,

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bathed in a barely audible Polonaise

leaking from a closed room

​

on a wet summer evening,

prising the heart open.