every day it dances, then revolving back around
"you I wanted to watch," she said
or then what had lulled me to sleep

so we hid until the tiled floors,
to hear the voices from hundreds
so I said the dust from the footsteps was blinding
and the sights of the daytime were lost
so then she lost interest

so the whispered voices create our surroundings,
and the gentle hums then perfection, never more
and her imitation fell short every time,
but nothing was lost in confusion

the footholds under every step, then
the sentences you form
then the blessing or the mementos,
and all of our admiration

or every day passed easier,
and every day we were easily received
but the tap of her fingers and the lingering word,
how they never lost their permanence

so we kept the avoidance a secret
so the metal had shined and held its tongue
so then we ceased to listen
for every word we had buried