A feather light touch

dances with my finger pads,

waltzing across a white

ballroom with blue striped

tile and red walls. The

girl in orange with the black

shows and pink hair pulls me

in time with the song in my

mind, almost as if she's

reading it as we create

art in our shared moment.

I stop for a second, gracing

her waist with my hand.

"How long do you have left?"

I ask my faithful companion.

"I hate until the last of this chapter."

When her shoes fall off from dancing

for too long-

damnit.

My pencil tip broke again.