Stolen Dance

This poem was originally published on 9 May 2016.

We were stolen of a dance,
By an unknown power,
And weren’t given the chance,
To dodge and counter.
I’ll remember our foxtrots,
Across the wooden floor,
And god will be wrought,
When I come calling at his door.

You were not simply good.
You were gorgeous.
And as long as I can breathe,
I’ll fight for us.
But right now, my arms feel empty,
And my soul badly worn,
You carried me,
But I couldn’t break your fall.

The wind blew strong today,
But I was the one howling,
You barely even barked,
Because your presence had feeling.
Your ears were so big,
You could hear what I didn’t say.
Your eyes were so sharp,
You knew what I hid away.
Hey, little brother,
You were young, naïve,
But you were otherworldly,
I do truly believe.
I hope that you’re someplace,
Gambolling about,
With your comical expressions,
That light the world around.
Maybe this is a long bad dream,
That you’ll wake me up from,
Licking my nose,
Looking at me like:
“What’s the problem?”
You went too soon,
And you taught me so much.
Come on now, just pitter-patter in,
The door is open, bud.
I’ll overthrow God for you.
I promise you I will.
And we’ll meet again someday,
Chasing towels in the field.

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