A Fateful Firing

The sound comes
to you like a song.
A faded paragraph,
carefully rolled over.
Let it incubate.
That soft shoe stroller.
Tap dancing down the stairs.
Fate that’s all it is.
A fateful firing of neurons.
Experiments in free words.
Shadowboxing in the dark.
It will come to you.
Just give it time.
And room to breathe.
The sound comes
as a quickened step.
Keeping pace a steady.
A soft shoe shuffle.
Rapping on a theme.
Joining hands and giving
thanks to all those dancers.
The strollers.
The shufflers.
The magnetic gazers.
The choice is yours.