Dancing Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

I have seen the branches waving,
Blurry lines of color
As the streetlamps flicker by.
They follow as I go, yet not too far ahead.
They are never far away,
Oh I am never far behind.

And they take me, gently swaying.
Oh so softly am I taken, that I stop to wonder how
I knew my place when I arrived.
Yet they remind me, that I have not reached
My destination yet. I know this. I have found it true
A thousand times again.

Yet I will not prepare, without this desperate undertaking.
They look in all the empty places,
Searching for their hope. I can see it,
I can feel it in their eyes. As though
Words were even real to those
Whose eyes no longer see.

Yet who are we to stand and prove
How loud our voices be? As though our words were
Made by men who once themselves had made.
Yet we pity all who do not follow,
Pity those who scorn. Yet who are we but those
Who linger, farther out of touch?

Oh I know what fades as fast as sunset's
Dying golden hue. But can I hold it one last time,
Or has the light slipped out of reach?
Don't tell me we are out of time.
I swore it wouldn't end this way.

But I did promise,
Yes they heard it as I passed them on that day.
The streetlights in the Fall were burning,
Burning full of what's to come.

I saw the light upon your face,
A thousand shadows in between.
And I knew that we are not.
No, we are not so far away.