Memories In Movement. Poem by Stephen S. Yeandle

She was waltzing
with her memories through
the Spanish moss oaks.

Effortless.

Revolving through time.

Small puddles
formed by her tear drops,
gathered in pools
and dampened the hems of her gown.

Tender embrace,
these moments of
grace.

With one
who was sadly not there.

Johann Strauss;
his Viennese Waltz,
weaving and netting,
embossed
on her heart,
as she swayed.

The Forest was yielding
a soft yellow mist,
as the sun lowered to end the day.

The core of her sadness
was malleable.

So soft.

She could see the smile
again in his eyes,
as he faded and vanished
in fog.

She would
but of course,
again one day waltz,
to the Viennese movement
of her dreams...