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An ordinary man.
There’s a man who dances every day
Not Fred Astaire, just his own way,
He dances while he’s standing still
Upon a painted country hill,
Or when he’s standing on a beach
Where music is just out of reach,
He dances when his thoughts arise
Like skylarks in the Summer skies.

He dances through the afternoon
And only he knows his own tune,
Remembrance brings so many eyes
Before his sunlight slowly dies
Into his mellow twilight shade
Where all his perfect music played,
He knew of his Terpsichore
And danced to where he knew she’d be.

Then when he reached the riverside
He watched the mayflies dance and glide,
And he danced with them in his heart
While sad inside at their false start,
He danced across the old stone bridge
And then along the gorse gold ridge,
And all the while the river sang
As far away old church bells rang.

And through the forest in a glade
Were lonely echoes steeped in shade,
That danced with him in twilight’s glow
Still so unsure of where to go,
Then he sat down and danced once more
Another dance, another shore,
Another moment lost in time
A fragment of remembered rhyme…


© 2017 WHITBYPOET1 (All rights reserved)


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