Dancing across the wooden floor,
in the mirror we see ourselves
and colorful night lights of Minneapolis
through floor-to-ceiling windows.
"One, two, three, four," the teacher says,
"five, six, seven." Eight is silent.
He is perfect, our teacher,
an extension of music, an instrument,
a passionate soloist. I wonder if his feet ever knotted,
as we stumble and catch up, practicing stepping rhythm out.
Music is a river.
This, our first class, carries us away.
"I love being with you," you whisper in my ear.
Steps and sequence repeated,
we face each other.
I love facing you.
I'd dance forever with you -
through this snowy night,
from venue to venue, crossing town,
state, nation, ocean, from country to country,
around the world, through fire, flood
and wild flower meadows.
You lean in. I feel, I hear your breath.
You kiss my cheek
just before the music starts again.
Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia
All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.