Above the Below

And here we hang -
two baubles on a tree;
two tightrope-walkers merrily
dancing on a broken thread.
Whispers on the breeze
of all the foolish things I said.

I should not speak your name,
regret every song I sang
but putting my fingers to the keys
I find this melody’s just the same.
Don’t try to measure this in feet,
a language no-one understands
Just let your foot tap to the beat
as I measure you in hands.