Cheek to cheek and toe to toe,
whenever graceful dancers go
smoothly passing while I stand by
feet motionless, with dancing eye,
jealousy may rear her head
as I wish that it were me, instead—
held securely in my partner’s arms,
guided surely away from harms
of other dancers’ straying feet
or jutting elbows I might meet.
Steered through dangers into bliss,
barely meeting the floor’s long kiss
as I soar and bend and sway and glide,
giving way to what’s inside,
the music comes to live in me
setting all that’s in me free,
stirring sadness at my core
and leaving it upon the floor
for other dancers to kick away
while only light parts choose to stay
within my heart as I dance on
from dark of night into the dawn.
I might feel sorry, sitting there,
no arms around me—only air.
Then I remember in the past
dancing nights I thought would last—
how all those partners have stepped away—
even the ones I hoped would stay.
Life has a way of leaving us
like hopeful riders passed by the bus
as it soars away with no seat left,
those left behind feeling bereft.
Then I look deeper and clearly see
one day that bus will stop for me.
Something heavy grows inside
where it’s not good for it to bide.
I scoot back my chair to shift that stone,
as I get up and dance alone.
This is a reblog of a poem written two years ago.The prompt was dancing.