Wednesday, March 24, 2021


 Wednesday Scribblings and we're challenged to feature DANCE.  My sympathies to Rommy at the loss of her dear friend.  My advanced years have occasioned me to experience such a loss many times over, and I well understand her grief.  Considering dance at different chapters of my life, my poem ends on a rather melancholy note.  Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United. March 24, 2021



Dance memories unfold

as if in a kaleidoscope...

The first awkward steps

at the school sock hop

Arthur Murray lessons

opening the door to happy

Miami nights of fun and

friendships explored

The first slow dance 

with the man I would marry

many dances following 

safe in his arms

The pain of watching others dance

after he was gone all too soon.

Longing for that safe feeling once more.

It’s no fun to dance alone


  1. May your memories be healing rhythms
    Thanks for dropping by my blog today Bev


  2. This one pulls at my heartstrings, Bev. My little brother and I used to dance like happy maniacs. We could dance an entire night, and I remember how we would laugh while our feet kissed the dance floor. His passing did something to me, dancing was... painful to my spirit for months. I still miss him so much when I dance one of his favorite songs, sometimes I can't help crying. Now I think of how I would feel when I can no longer dance with my Piano Man and the pain makes me want to reach out to you, and hug you gently in a friendly dance. Loss is a terrible thing, and although memories help... They are never enough.

  3. I met my husband in high school, me a junior .. him a senior. Every morning before classes began for the day a 'dance' was held in the school gymnasium. My first dances with him were to Sam Cooke's You Send Me .... memories are precious indeed. And overwhelming too.

  4. A wonderful memorial, Beverly. My folks were great dancers. I loved watching them.

  5. Tender memories beautifully recounted.

    Alas, I am an awkward dancer myself. My first husband was a champion ballroom dancer (with cups and medals to prove it) and used to make me look and feel good on the dance floor. Unfortunately not so good in other respects.... I quite enjoyed dancing alone when younger – or rather, with my broom – to Janis Joplin played loud while I was doing the housework.

  6. A beautiful and bittersweet poem. I'm not much of a dancer, I'm afraid. I have my own, shall we say, unique style.

  7. Well, Beverly, this is a sweet and sour write today. I feel like a Dr. Jim help note is needed here.
    Best for you is to associate with a group of widow ladies, hoping that some of them also like to dance. There are always some lady couples on the dance floor.
    Far out, and really works better for men is to try for being a professional dance escort aboard a line of cruise ships. Who knows, you might fit with someone who really cares for you.
    That second one is sort of on my standby bucket list, in case I am the survivor partner in our marriage. (Before we moved to the west subburb of Houston there were a group of widow ladies who had made a waiting list for me. That probably isn't now, dissolved, although two of them have moved here also.
    A tidbit, I holed up for three years after a painful and expensive divorce (13 years married) I fortunately was surprised by my now wife at a landlady's monthly supper. My roommate and his then girl friend convinced Mrs. Jim to wait for me as I had a class that night.
    One never knows, we have been married 48 years; she likes dancing more than I do though we are dancing.

    1. Thanks for the suggestions, Jim, but my widowhood has been filled with many things---a successful business career, a wonderful circle of friends (tho granted I've outlived most of them), travel, co-administering 3 art challenge blogs, and forming a small writing group in my new community. I certainly didn't intent for my poem to sound poor me. My life has been busy and I've scarcely missed the dancing. It's the strong shoulder to lean on that I sorely miss.

  8. Memories recounted so beautiful. I could feel every word. A very beautiful and poignant piece.

  9. Oh Bev. This is beautiful and sweet, full of love and the ache that comes at the end. Its a reminder to be grateful for all the love we have in our lives and treasure it while its ours. I am going to straight up cry when my husband gets his next vaccination.