Stringy guitars and the patter of drums.
Husky vocals whisper in the empty space
Filling the void with words.
Dance is, after all, no more than words,
Than sounds filling an empty space;
Whispered voices overlaced with
Music.
Feet shuffle
In a pattern if you’d like –
A different kind of language.
Of the body, not the voice.
Barriers dropped and conversations had,
Words spoken while lips don’t move.
Chest to chest
Hand in hand
Swaying
Pulsing
Enraptured.
For is dance not a conversation?
Words without words?
A connection of two beings,
A
getting to know you
Even though we’ve never met.
The guitar wails on in its thrilling lament
Blue swirling betwixt our toes,
Around our shoes.
Dancers shuffle with eyes closed and minds
Far from the words whispered softly
And never spoken.
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