Tangent

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Used to be, you’d have
drawn me a line in the sand,
I’d have danced on it.
Just another tangent on a life
that was a sunburst of boundaries crossed.

When you’re dancing alone,
the lines move so they cross you.
Your passing knocked me off rhythm,
I noticed and stayed still.
The lines stopped moving.

There wasn’t one I would not
have crossed when they didn’t matter;
I was passing through.
Less selfish now, a lot more cautious,
I’m learning which lines dance inside of
and which to leap over to reach you.





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