It’s seldom that folks see me dance, <br />for want of occasion or partner. <br />My stiff joints pray “give others a chance! <br />Just sit with your drink in the dark there.” <br /> <br />I’m not really hip and can’t hop <br />Arthritis has put paid to that dream. <br />I’d let younger ones gambol and lark <br />here I’d sit, waiting patient, for ice cream. <br /> <br /> <br />But no, I sway out on the hardwood, <br />locked in a slow dance with you. <br />I clinch like a boxer, exhausted- <br /> Whose opponent has landed a few. <br /> <br /> <br />I pray that the music is ending- <br />My balky hip screams with each turn <br />After this I’ll for sure need a Walker <br />A Blue, on the rocks, I have earned.<br /><br />John F. McCullagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dancing-in-the-dark-7/
