Moving With You | Poetry

Moving With You

Dance in the City by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

We could find ourselves dancing at a ball,

doing the waltz, our two bodies pressed

tight as we orbit the great dance hall.

The guests all dressed in their Friday night best,

the heavenly strings from the far-off wall

make this a grand outing of no contest.

Dance in the Country by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

We might be dancing in the country

filled with zest as the fiddle fills the air.

If you don’t mind that my moves are rusty,

me ignoring the tripping is only fair.

Contradancing always makes us feel bubbly

you can’t help but smile at the low-key flair.

Dance at Bougival by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

Or maybe we’re both just dancing alone

in our backyard, under the light of stars.

Our music is the cricket’s endless drone

as we sway barefoot on this grass of ours.

For free, we can groove right outside our home

and twirl to the sounds of honking cars.

I’ve found that no matter the type of place,

no matter the decor that fills the space,

if I’m allowed to see your smiling face,

I will always feel a great sense of grace.