When I entrain to the box-step
of the busy-ness world, and
only despair softens the fear,
I have left Vienna and need return,
my heart requires the Blue Danube
swirl and lilt to keep its lightness of being
bright as play across a child's face,
my mind favors the rhythm of dust motes,
my body revels in rock and latin beats
but my heart, it needs the nested circles'
sweeping flow and grounded flight.
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