I wish we dance again -- my hand is in your hand

I wish we dance again,

my hand is in your hand.

The simple pleasure

of being present,

accepting every motion

as a gift

and futter like

a morning butterfly.

. . .

That dance would lift me up

above the nonsense,

dissolving world

around us as useless.

For then I had the music

and your hands

that led me anyplace

they wanted.

. . .

What was the magic

of your spell?

Why did I give myself

completely over?

Without asking

nothing in return,

except for music

never to be stopped?

. . .

Why pleasure's flitting

Like a breath of wind?

And why we know

Nothing in advance?

And why my memory

forever playing

how you're laughing

and spinning me in dance.

-- Irina Patterson, August 18, 2020

. . .

Thank you, you can find more of my writing here. Love, Irina