Tuesday 8 March 2011

The dancer

For some reason (maybe watching one too many BBC adaptations over recent months) I have early 1900's Tess of the D'urberville-esque characters tootling around in my head. Maybe it's the simplicity of 20th century life I crave, maybe it's just subliminal influencing... Either way, give them a warm welcome :)

The dancer

Somewhere in-between those strings
and dancing fingers,
that melody was made;
as she moved slowly – in his shadow –
he closed his eyes and played.
Dressed in lace, and floating cotton,
she drummed bare feet upon the glades;
her rhythmic, warm and kindly welcome,
to the dusk at end of day.
But when his loving tune of tribute
sends dehydrated tears along her face,
then he hums,
a thousand heart-string memories,
and remembers dancing days.


(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2011

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