Dancing

There is something lovely, yet sad about a dried flower. A wisp of what it was, a hint of scent. I cannot help but cut and preserve what I know will die anyway, but in a way I will have a memory of what it was. And I was thinking tonight, it's raining again, and I have bread in the oven...Greg is feeling bad, or is he not feeling well...and I thought about all the times we have, in four different countries, danced. Not the disco stuff, but the kind of thing where we have some music on a CD player, or radio, and we just move from our chairs, and slip into each other, and dance. And with all that, this came to my mind. No matter where our lives take us, or what fate will do with us, we will always have our dance.

Are you dancing with your love?
In the wispy evening with the wheat field swaying
Are you dancing?
In the cold, and drizzling night, with june bugs
buzzing around the back porch light
Are you dancing?
The snow has fallen, the stars are out
the river runs and the trees are budding
Are you dancing?
With that last bite of dinner
with that last sigh of day
Take your loved one's hand
and lead them to the closest place
where four feet can move, and dance.
Hold them close, and sing in your mind
or out loud if you are brave
Are you dancing?
Because tomorrow you might not have the chance
To dance and sing and love
Like today
And in that dance, that sway and touch
you may hold the most precious memory
Are you dancing?
You might wish you had.