We dance around <br />our little flat <br /> <br />Glen Miller's <br />STRING OF PEARLS <br /> <br />shaping our bodies <br />to its rhythms <br /> <br />miraculously avoiding <br />furniture <br /> <br />ornaments capable of <br />falling <br /> <br />my fingertips <br />clutch...catch <br /> <br />the pearls <br />frozen at your throat <br /> <br />there is an audible <br />snap <br /> <br />a one by one <br />they come undone <br /> <br />each an eternity falling <br /> <br />like lost moments <br />each pearl <br /> <br />finding an impossible <br />place to hide. <br /> <br />Days later we still discover <br />like forgotten memories <br /> <br />a hidden pearl <br />curled up in a slipper <br /> <br />asleep in the cat's litter <br />inside an open letter <br /> <br />daydreaming under a sofa <br />beneath a feathered fallen boa. <br /> <br />Our bodies <br />clinging now <br /> <br />strung like a string <br />of pearls <br /> <br />set at the throat of midnight <br /> <br />dancing to MOONLIGHT <br /> <br />SERENADE. <br /> <br />****** <br /> <br />Poem written for Sacrlet's mum back in the day when women had to be men as war raged and flared through history. I liked the picture Scarlet drew of her Mum before her Mum was her Mum...before we know our parents or our parents even know of us and are only thinking of getting to know each other. This couple in the 80's could just as easily be the dancing couple in the 40's...time is immaterial.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/diving-for-pearls-for-scarlet/
