Longing for Dance, 16-20

 

16. 

Young me wanted the Pied Piper

to come one night to our town, 

play sweetest notes on his magic flute

and call us all away – we children

who longed to escape the adult world.

What lands would he lead us to, dancing?

What fairytale surprises had always awaited

down past the end of the lane, out and away

across the fields and into the far forest? 

I knew I would never come dancing back.

17. 

The Seventh Seal 

ends – or begins? 

Death leads a line 

of following figures 

stretching raggedly 

along the hilly horizon:

black silhouettes

against white sky.

They are holding hands.

They appear to be dancing.

18.

When I was a little kid, dancing

was what I did for joy. I didn’t

even need music. I twirled and 

jumped and threw my arms up,

and went round and round and

kicked my legs and spun on my 

tiptoes, and of course there was 

always delicious squealing. Oh,

when I was little, I knew nothing 

at all about dancing, I simply did.

19.

She calls to me, my tiny cat,

insistently, with loud and 

strident voice. I pick her up, 

I rock her in my arms. She purrs. 

Her small paws flex, 

ecstatic. I dance with her

around and around the room.

Oh, I croon, the things we do!

The things we do, the things we do,

the things we do for love.

20.

What happens when the dancing stops?

Ring-a-ring-a-rosy, all fall down?

‘Thank you,’ politely and go separate ways?

Or, shall this be a new romance?

After the ball, do those likely lads

straighten their uniforms and march off to war?

(That has been known to happen. Think Waterloo.)

Or do we wind down quietly in the old church hall

while the musos pack up their tired instruments, 

and then all toddle home to a nice, calm bed?

See also Poems 1-5, Poems 6-10, and Poems 11-15.

The whole sequence is now available as a free ebook. To access it (and others) first go here.