Monday, 26 October 2015

The Dancer

Frustrated, the man looked down at his feet
Stubborn and still to the drum of the beat
Heavy and grey, they stood glued to the floor
Anchored with veins to a heart that cried "more"
Each day it would wail with gusto, emotion
To swallow the rhythm, like a boat needs the ocean
He felt it within him, his fingers lay twitching
in a hospital bed, his whole body was itching
His language was fluent, a waltz if you will
In fact, looking back, it was never stood still
The life in his eyes, now that was a thing
to be seen, as they spun into Swing
My heart felt so warm as we tangled our bodies
into tango, now slowdance, our new favourite hobbies
Until winter rolled in like a blue-lit ballet
His feet remained chained, he looked down in dismay

"Oh why can't I dance?" He smiled, hopelessly.
"Must be your shoes," I laughed back
"'cause you've been dancing with me."

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