tell me to write to you

as i did with the old poet

 and my words may dry up

 old leaves devoid of color

crumbling

carried off in silent winds

tell me to dance

and i may stumble

all left feet and untied laces

face down on scruffed old dance floors

while at night, alone

the music often fills

and moves me with grace

tell me to recreate the wheel

and i may catch

choked by the spokes

wrapped around my neck

while old memories spin me

away

from me

buried in rusted steel

and splintered wood