We Danced. - Poem by Michael Walker
I went to dance after dance in this 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 young brunette walked over
to where I was seated and asked, 'Care to dance? '
We took the floor hand in hand talking easily;
waltzing close she said, 'Save the last dance for me'.
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