There she stood
Surrounded by wooden wheels screeching
Poodle skirts and saddle shoes.
An angel under a spotlight,
With Tommy Roe crooning
To the couples in the corners.
His scuffed loafers whispered
Across the oiled, ash floor,
Sweaty palms creased his chinos,
His lips covered by paper.
Life or death came with the next
When he asked her to dance.
A smile, a flip of her dark hair,
And he was able to exhale.
A dance that began very slow,
Much like a train leaving a village at midnight,
Gathering speed, at times
Calm and smooth,
Often switching in an instant,
Nearly leaving its tracks.
And so went the dance,
It netted a smile, a moonlight walk in the sand,
On to a wedding, a few children and a career.
Loved ones leaving them, and a
Small red chested robin perched on her finger.
A dance that has lasted 53 years.
Close to coming to an end many times, but
Blissfully going on.
Despite the years,
She’s still the angel in the center of the floor,
Slowly turning, looking him in the eye,
And whispering “Yes.”.