The Dance

To dance a dance, a most beautiful dance.
Will she dance with him?
Will she dance with him tonight?
Will she dance with him tomorrow?
Don’t let them stumble, let the dance go smoothly.
One dance will certainly lead into another.
Oh, how he aches to waltz into her life, whisk her off her feet.
When the dance begins it will be awkward.
As the dance continues they shall anticipate the other’s every move,
Knowing the other shall be there every time they turn around,
Knowing they dance only with each other,
Forsaking all outside invitations for dance.
At times they shall dance slow, at times they shall dance fast.
Usually they will dance close, occasionally with space between them.
Should they lose sight of one another on the dance floor,
They know the other is out there, looking to return.
The music they shall make themselves,
And one day smaller instruments shall come into play.
As the clock of life ticks away, they dance will inevitably end.
The dance to end… how sad.
Sad indeed to watch the remaining partner,
As his lifetime companion slowly gives up the dance.
Dance alone? Dance alone? Must one dance alone?
Maybe. Maybe one must… maybe not.
Those smaller instruments grow louder and come into play.
No need to dance alone… no need.
Those instruments are now large, large and loud,
Loud and in tune, in tune with the beat of his heart.
Their music shall carry the dancer, the solo dancer, to the very end.
The end? How sad. How sad for the remaining instruments,
Even though they now have dance partners of their own.
The solo dancer? The solo dancer is no more.
How sad. How very sad. Maybe… Wait! Maybe not.
The solo dancer is no longer solo,
For there is his partner, there she stands,
Just on the other side of the light.
They never left each other… not at all…
They were simply separated on the floor.