Watching their
Feet skirt feet skim the top of the linoleum floor tiles,
like
It could be hardwood in a ballroom
Watching them
Drift like thunderclouds,
Not graceful but steady, not wistful but intentioned.
Watching their
Hands placed lightly together,
On a shoulder, a waist, a thigh
A gentle reminder of presence, of countrol
Watching their
Faces turned up in the confidence that comes with age, or
Turned down in the uncertainty it brings,
Watching their
Eyes which don’t wander in the circles they’re tracing
Eyes that stay tight on each other, on looking up and
forward
Watching them
Watching each other,
Their gazes directed into one another,
Into a past that they share and they hold.
Watching them
Dozens of us, our eyes quiet and thinking,
Wondering or wishing,
Watching them
Dance across that linoleum floor just like
No one is there at all.
X----
X----
No comments:
Post a Comment