This Dance We Do

Is there an end in sight?

This dance we do together

I step back, you step forward, I step to you.

I'm letting you lead,

swing me along,

pull me close just to push me away again.

My dancing shoes are wearing thin.

The soles aren't supporting this kind of constant movement anymore.

Legs beginning to cramp,

stomach starting to churn.

Will we continue to glide through a waltz, a tango, a salsa

until I collapse,

a hard hit to hard wood,

or will you continue to move, carrying me limp and

spinning around the room

until you're content with the finale?