Musings Of A Clouded Mind
At The Dance
The music playing soft and low
lilts on the gentle breeze,
as dancers sway and move with grace
across the floor with ease.
The orchestra knows every song
the dancers want to hear.
They play each note and watch it float
to land on listeners ears.
The music lends its ambience
as all the couples twirl.
They tilt and dip almost as if
they're in another world.
They spin and leap into the air
to music so sublime.
The movements of their arms and hands
show each in perfect time.
It seems as if the songs were heard
somewhere before today.
Do they repeat the sound so sweet
each time they start to play?
There was a story written of
‘The Spring Cotillion Dance',
where couples twirled and swirled in hopes
of warm, springtime romance.
The dancers lightly touch their feet
onto the parchment floor.
They dance the same each night among
the pages written yore.
Copyright By
Anita Lewis Longino
February 22, 2002
lilts on the gentle breeze,
as dancers sway and move with grace
across the floor with ease.
The orchestra knows every song
the dancers want to hear.
They play each note and watch it float
to land on listeners ears.
The music lends its ambience
as all the couples twirl.
They tilt and dip almost as if
they're in another world.
They spin and leap into the air
to music so sublime.
The movements of their arms and hands
show each in perfect time.
It seems as if the songs were heard
somewhere before today.
Do they repeat the sound so sweet
each time they start to play?
There was a story written of
‘The Spring Cotillion Dance',
where couples twirled and swirled in hopes
of warm, springtime romance.
The dancers lightly touch their feet
onto the parchment floor.
They dance the same each night among
the pages written yore.
Copyright By
Anita Lewis Longino
February 22, 2002
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At The Dance
At The Dance
