She
measures her time in memories
She
waits for him impatiently
As
if frustration could quicken his pace.
They
are not strangers, she knows him well
He
has danced through her parlour
Many
times before.
He
has danced for mothers, fathers, friends
He
danced for her husband, whose hand she held
Until
the dance reached its bitter end.
She
begged him many times to dance for her
To
take her hand in his and lead a solemn waltz
But
he refused to acknowledge she was even there.
He
danced his grim fandango through her life
Breaking
hearts, wrecking lives; his feet would never halt
As
the requiem played and her life string frayed.
So
now she waits for him impatiently
And
for her own dance to begin.
And
as he appears at her window
She
stands and smoothes her skirt.
The
requiem builds again,
The
dancers clasp hands.
Her
last waltz.
Steven Kenny
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