POETRY BOOK Stories in the stream of life
A Dance Story
Seems like a part of life. There's what we think love and marriage will be like and then there's what it really is once you're in it. I was a lot less...learned in life when I wrote this one. It's a good story with a happy ending, though. All love and life tales don't end this way, but it's a nice thought, anyway...
And every now and then, quite a few love tales do end this way...
A Dance Story
Somewhere, from his distant place,
And somehow, in her distant life; there,
He saw her,
and was taken by her beauty.
He flowed across the time and upon a knee
“Hello.” said he;
“The music is beautiful.” replied she;
“May we dance together?” He asked her...
“I know not if such an idea
could really be good ...” she answered,
“...for I only want a man who’d dance with me
prance with me, and
delight with me forever.”
“I shall ever pursue such a pleasure for you. “
Whereupon his hand he extended, and she, though hesitant,
took it still...
So did their dance begin --
Their movements to the melody
were, at first,
He knew not if he were welcome
she knew not if he were true;
yet, the dance went on — slowly,
at its start, but
it progressed, and trust, with confidence
became gifts given
by many seasons of beneficence
They danced the duration of
the rains of Spring,
then whirled, twirled, eddied and spun
underneath the kindly shining
of their serene Summer sun .....
Oh, how the steps of their lives
accompanied with pride
the beauty of Autumn’s rise —
their rhythms evinced
That would warm their world
throughout Winter’s rigid snows
This dance - ah yes - it was the long dance
the prance, the sway, the glide
through the flutter, flit, and bounce of the lives
of two who were destined
to caper and cavort
through one and the same existence.
It was that sensual and sensitive tango
that could only go on
to become the elongation
of coloration from black to grey.
They did the dancing of Rhyme,
of Romeo with Juliet.
Time and Life, She and He .....
And when —
the lights began to fall dim
as the melody mellowed,
he looked into her eyes
and felt from within, the origin
of tears that were rolling to fall as only
broken bits and shards of lonely
silver rain —
for he, like unto a distant forefather
had found a “she” made from his own rib,
yet now — decrescendo
winding down of
the sound —
the music of their odessy
the long dance was on the wane;
here and alas, far too soon,
the way of their ballet
was coming to an end, and so
“My love, “ Quoth he ,
“The dance is ending and our lights
now fade to black —
yet I wish not to leave thee!”
“I” - she said
“I wanted a one who would dance
the long dance
always together with me forever...”
“My dear, I am equal to this pleasure,” said he.
“for I will always and unendingly be
the other part of we.
And I would drown in fire
yes, burn in the sea
before I let even mighty time
tear me away from thee.”
So saying, he extended his hand.
She held it to her heart, feeling
the veracity, the tenacity of every little part
of the love he felt for her
from as far away as his formerly distant place
and long befor he ever even saw her face...
So now, she understood what he had always really known
From the day he was born he was meant to be hers - her very own
So, together, they exited the dance
No one knows where they have gone
None of us could tell you where they went
We just know
That they will always be together...
Stephen W. Winslow