Poem - Late Hour

A swing dance is a dynamic event. Some people arrive early and leave the same. Other people arrive later. The poem “Late Hour” is dedicated to those latter arrivals, and specifically to Ruth and Rachel, two of my favorite late night partners.


Late Hour

Nearly over yet still some time,
two third has passed in the night.
The crowd has thinned on the floor,
more space for wings to unfold.

I came to dance another week,
this I do with lust for life.
Three long hours is the breadth
of another chance to dance!

An evening spent and so was I.
My body aches though soul is strong.
The feet imagine what I could do,
though the entire self is reluctant to.

Lovely partners came and went,
some selected for tune that played.
Others asked me for my hand,
I agreed, my ego blessed.

The late hour finally arrived,
night nearly over as hands turned.
I looked away and then looked back,
there you were ready to dance.

My energy is fast restored,
last reservoirs given to you.
Endorphins are the dancer's bliss,
brought to bless God's bright gift.

A final dance is our delight,
my wait was blessed in your arms.
A smile, the grace, feet in sync,
two as one in a last moment.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160407.