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It begins like this—
a crowded room, music,
dancing, laughter,
celebration.
As the night wears on,
as the families with children, and friends
find their way home,
when the dance floor is left
to those few couples
who refuse to let it go,
who dance cheek to cheek,
their jackets hung on backs of chairs,
their shoes long ago kicked off,
when it is down to that,
to the band's last slow dance,
when the band packs up,
when there is silence...
then, then we begin to dance our dance.
Hanque O . . .
| Submitted Date |
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Wednesday, June 24, 2009 |
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Poets
