18 November 2014


I never aspired toward
The terpsichorean arts 
Pastel colour satins,
Diadems and stars
In my hair, point shoes
And sylph like alignment
Were lost on me.
From my perch in lowland
I could not envision
The possibility of becoming
Airborne, the freedom of
Leaping into a jeté.
I knew about discipline
That took captives,
I never considered
The liberating discipline
Of dance.

Until that cloudy, liquid
You let your
Voice spill into the room,
And I thought of dancing.
Your words were dancing,
Nimble, gliding around us,
An intoxicating choreography.

I understood
The manifold complexity
Of the art, and your
Do you remember?
That day I asked you
Timidly, hopefully,
“Shall we dance?
In our own unique style,
            Shall we dance?”