The persistent pounding of the drum

Repeats and repeats it’s pattern on

The sound draws closer from the distance.

The drum beats on in my head.

Half in hope, half in dread

I await the dancing throng to come

And the man in old disguise

Wears the ancient painted mask.

He grabs me, spins me

Underneath his black hooped skirts.

In the dark he whirls me around

Through the streets of the town

To the beat of the drum, drum, drum.

He spins me round and round around,

Hurling me finally outward,

Out and out through the crowd.

Now I’m standing here alone, far outside

The drum beats, on and on

Until it’s faded, far, and gone.