Dancing Heads

Pieces of sand or dust

With a spring serving as spine

Painted with red, black and white

They dance in front of our eyes

Serving a purpose

That even they don’t know

They don’t quit smiling

Even on a knock out blow

Dancing heads on a dashboard

No idea where they will lead

Nodding their heads, Riding on ford

They trust the pilot behind the wheel

Aren’t we like those dancing heads

Waiting for rest, until we crash

Bumping and shaking in a ride called life

Living with proud on edge of a knife.