All The Time In The World Poem by Dónall Dempsey

We dance
around our little flat
to Louis Armstrong

lost in a ballroom
of our own
longing
your breath
on my nuzzled neck

precious
beyond
preciousness
a kiss here and there
still glowing in your hair

a logfire
playing with our shadows
dancing on the ceiling
time
(ceases to exist)

(what's it to us?)
somehow we
no longer need it
only Louis's voice
telling us
that we

(& we believe him)
have all the time
in the world

& so with yawns & laughter
laughter & yawns
we dance
into a dawn.

*******

OUR OWN THING

We put
a record on the gramaphone
the needle fishes
for the tune

catches a melody
from the black pool
the shellac waves
rising...falling!

I, in top hat
& tails
looking like a dapper
Irish Fred Astaire

you
all Ginger Rodgers'd
a Marcel wave in your hair.

We are dancing
'Cheek to Cheek'
'You dance divinely
darling! '

I whisper to your hair.
'And you...you
dance so...very badly! '

'That's what I like about you my dear
...you never lie! '
'Well, hardly ever! '
The music ends &...begins again.

'May I...? '
'You may...! '
We dance
around & in between around

the large furniture
in our little flat
a room as if Magritte had painted it!
It's just
another Friday night

when we should be going out
but we are content
to be stayin' in
enjoying oursleves
doin'
our own thing.

*******

LIVING IN THE MOMENT


The music
has long since stopped
& so
not wanting to break the spell

we dance to the silence
my hand on the small of
your back

your hand on the back
of my neck
our faces
dissolved
into a kiss

as if becoming one
with the gramphone
& it's hiss

the clock on the mantlepiece
merely an artifice
incapable of telling
time

we move
blindly around the room
unwilling for the moment
to end.