Almost Poem by Diana van den Berg

Out of the mists
of memories
he came,
slowly,
with head held high,
like a prince
in a fairytale,
and put out his hand
to her, wordlessly
asking for a dance.

She advanced,
barefoot,
in her long, long dress
falling in soft folds,
the changing colours
of the mist,
a wood-nymph
in the arms of a prince.
For hours
they swirled
and twirled
to the music
of their hearts
in the forest glade
surrounded
by woodland creatures
and when dawn melted
the sorrowing mists,
they both faded softly
into their moonlit memories
and fragile dreams
and the woodland creatures
bowed their trembling heads
and hearts
heavy
in silent mourning.

(9 October 2012)