Time Dancer Poem by Thomas Golding

TIME DANCER
for Barbara

When you were eight and I sixteen
I took you to the ballet
Young men were reluctant to admit
In the late forties they enjoyed the arts
Grudging peer approval was offered
When obliged to take a niece
I tried my best to look martyred.

What a fuss and commotion
As you were readied for the day
Both of us impatient and suffering
Detailed sets of instructions
From two mothers no less
We walked sedately out of sight
Then ran.

The Opera House a magic world
Of glittering gilt and chandeliers
From our seats in the Circle
We watched the curtain rise
Pineapple Poll then Petroushika
Followed by the Little Swans
How you changed as your mind went out
Joining the dancers on the stage.

Unmoving and barely breathing
Until the final curtain
No footlight could be so bright
As the stage struck look in your eyes
May we come again? You asked
If you really liked it, I responded
You smiled sweetly and took my hand
Then twisted my little finger.

In that space between
The thunder and the flash
You helped me to grow a little
Learning to care for another’s feelings
Warming me with your laughter
Pirouetting around me in the past
When you were a girl
And I was nearly a man.