We Danced. Poem by Michael Walker

I went to dances on Saturday night in the city once,
where the ladies and gentlemen circled hopefully
looking over the dim-lit floor for the right one;
waiting and wondering when the music would stop.

I sometimes felt more like a spectator than a dancer,
but that all changed at an out-of-town country dance:
after some waltzes, foxtrots, quicksteps and line dancing,
they had a 'ladies' choice' for their own partners.

To my surprise a youngbrunette walked over
to where I was seated and asked, 'Care to dance? '
We took the floor hand in hand talkingeasily;
waltzing close she said, 'Save the last dance for me'.