a waltz.

okay..right now I am taking a summer class and it is Creative Writing:Poetry.

I have never written poetry before. I don’t know the first thing about writing poetry. This is the first poem I have ever tried to write. I really don’t want to share this but how can you grow as a writer if you don’t get over your fear of sharing your work? You can’t. So here is to being transparent.

I would love feedback. You can be as mean as you want. I love brutal honesty.

hopefully you halfway enjoy it…

 

A Waltz.

He was too young to drive but too old

To ride bicycles anymore. His chin boasted patches

Of newly grown stubble: adulthood sprouting from his face.

He gives a crooked smile.

He has the timidity of a child.

 

To him, everyday is a new person to meet. He beckons it to

Dive into his deep pools of silk teeming with visions of a dreamer,

Their surface yet untouched, unmoved.

Speckles of sun, like embers, dance across their banks to marble horizons

Caressing his sharp cheekbones. He keeps his distance.

 

The room is full of old friends bowing to each other.

They move with such grace for this dance is familiar to them.

She waltzes in, toes pointed and arms poised. This dance is her favorite.

She smiles at him as she glides across the room.

He doesn’t move. He has never been good at dancing.

 

He watches her sashay from person to person. A bow. A leap. A turn.

Her image streams across his silk pools teeming with visions of a dancer.

Tapping his feet to the rhythm of her waltz, he steps to her.

She pirouettes. He bows back.

They step: 1-2-3, 1-2-3…