Just like Summer Rain

This was their dance. A never ending sequence of loops and curves and dips and beats. They curled their bodies to the silent strings of a song lost in time. A haunting melody of optimism and pain, joy and suffering.
They jerked violently with the pulse of it.
The rain added its own quiet requiem; pinpricks against frozen skin. It was another line, another note, and they slinked against each other briefly. Sombre and frenzy howled within them, and the steps were agonised.
Time was a physical force. It twisted them into gruesome shapes; tore the unspoken patterns. Silvern strands floated briefly.
The rain murdered them.
Whispers of sliding silk languished softly in the air. The pulse was slow and melodious. They broke from Time's clawing fingers. The dance softened.
They arched into the flow of the other. Coiled and bowed in the brief interlude. The string of music unbound; the glimpses of each others voice enraptured them. They moved to the twined notes.
Soft gasps of breath murmured a rhapsody. Shivers raced through the air. It sung for them; tales finally screamed themselves through its tone. They wept. The dance was sundered; they fumbled their way through the racing notes.
Stains coloured the lullabies. Scars rent and were reborn in the effusive light. It breathed through them, and grace rediscovered them.
They danced eternal. The forgotten stories died within their pounding feet, releasing their beauty and darkness into a new step; a new dance.
It was their dance.
Patchwork threads of everyone’s dance.
It was their dance.