A few steps…..

Years gone…..

Months, weeks and days.

Makes it dry rhythm, bated, hardened, frail, then to crumble, razed, and soon to be forgotten

It’s beautiful..

So they say

When nothing but common eyes that dance with a smile, spell a promise of love, of a season

The swells…

The heaves..

A turn and a glance, a few steps back, luck, could be what I want to set my new rhythm?