Ballroom Dancing

The room stays dark even with the sun
shining bright outside.
Just a bit of light filters in,
enough to light the dark corners
the tiniest bit,
to prove there are no demons there.

That is enough.
There is time to dance later,
time to light candles
and open the sash,
to let in the warm air and
let the wind’s music lift your spirit.

It does not matter who is watching
as you pirouette in the dark room
like a child, more enthusiasm than skill,
happy, incredibly happy,
even for this small taste of light.

About this poem

Every good thing is worth celebrating. And when things are hard. Every good thing is worth celebrating even more.

Tom