DANCING NOWHERE

DANCING NOWHERE

Aging hands smooth the wrinkles
of a fading blue gown, long wrapped
in tissue paper, for years, forgotten.

Tonight, in the quietness of her room,
she dresses again, as years before
she had dressed for the dance,
awaiting her first and dearest love.

She turns for a brief look
in the full-length mirror,
shoulder length raven locks,
now cut short and turned white,
a too-thin woman looking lost.

She moves silently to the victrola,
antique but still vibrant with sound,
finding 'their song' and listening
as the music fills the room,
bringing life and memories back,
if only for a short while.

Unseen arms hold her close, gently,
and she smiles as she dances nowhere,
moving in place to the lilting notes
too feeble to twirl and curtsy
as once she did, when she was young.
The light dimmed as she fell back
onto the bed, a smile on her face.

They watched as the nurse entered
and sounded the alarm to the rest
of the house - 'Madame is dead!'
The family would be all right.
She turned to him, as together
they danced to a celestial melody,
swaying to the music, laughing,
dancing nowhere toward the light.

Countrymom
5/3/06