Saturday, February 5, 2011

The Dancer

And then the Dancer danced no more,
The music played as it had before,
But now the Dancer danced no more.
“We’ll change the tune,” the Fiddler said,
“And then she’ll dance as she is led.”
But nay, the dancer stood stock still,
No longer swayed by the Music’s will.
“Let’s hasten the beat to acid rock,
And then that old Dancer will have to take stock.”
“We’ll add some soul to wail and cry
And with it an “amp” to electrify.”
“Ha, ha, no good Dancer could resist.”
But the Dancer stood without a twist
“Another trick we’ll try”, said they,
“And then that old Dancer will start to sway.”
They cannot see what the Dancer can see,
A distant drum has set her free,
Another light shines through the door,
Another light shines through the door,
For them, the Dancer will dance no more.
-an original poem by Reba Crain Abbott
one of my grandmother's friends who recently passed away

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