The Dance



I tell you of his passing with heavy sighs
Like a politician, barely believing
The words as they fall from my mouth
Our love long gone, but instinctively
I need you to comfort me
Somehow, you know that
"Come round, I'm not busy"

I stand nervously in your doorway
Clutching my handbag to my chest
"Come in, sit down....drink?"
I swallow hard, a barely audible "Please"
I look around the familiar room
But I'm not aching to belong
My heart holds new pain

We speak softly of the man, the tragedy
Compassion in your eyes, your voice
Then you turn on some music,
Take my arm and hold me close,
Slowly waltzing, my head on your chest
You lean down, kiss my forehead
"You should go now, it'll be ok"

At the funeral the next day, I was
Thank you



Poetry by Purple Phoenix
Read 580 times
Written on 2009-10-23 at 03:19

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Kathy Lockhart
so much pain here and your use of words, the picture is painted vividly leaving filled with sadness.
2009-10-23


Bjanka
...very moving, brilliantly expressed...
2009-10-23


Morpheus
Such sadness written by the poet who lives within your heart. Wonderful write...
2009-10-23