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You are the person who has to
decide.
Whether you'll do it or toss it aside;
You are the person who makes up your mind.
Whether you'll lead or will linger behind.
Whether you'll try for the goal that's afar.
Or just be contented to stay where you are.
_____Edgar A. Guest
The music fills the air and he's the only one who hears it. Sitting by the
tree this sunny afternoon, he is lifted by the spirit of the composer's
intent and taken, if only for a moment, back to that time.
It is a place you might remember, perhaps you were right there with him. The
innocence, the "might-have-beens," the one that got away.
The boys all gathered shyly, nervously to one side. The girls, giggling,
chatting, pointing to "that one over there." He's the one they all want to
dance with and he knows it.
But this one stands ignoring the immature ratings of the rest of the boys.
He feels himself ready and yet, in order to declare himself so, he must step
across that line. You know, the invisible divider which has kept him this
side of the gym.
The night has gone by all too quickly. The pressure's on and he must make
the move.
The Deejay spins the record to a halt and before the next one begins
announces, "This is the last slow dance of the evening."
"Oh, no!" the young man says beneath his breath. With that startling news he
dashes across the floor, his eye remains on her as he plows past the crowd
of onlookers. They, still dreaming of the moment, stop suddenly to watch the
master do his work.
He screeches to a halt and the world stands still with him. The blue lights
dancing in the middle of the floor, reflections in a dream, cause everything
to move in slow motion now.
This Romeo reaches for his Juliet and for the first time in his young life
he utters these words nervously, "Dance with me?"
Slowly she reaches out to him, awestruck and spinning with the moment, for
she never thought he'd noticed her this night.
The music, the last slow dance of the evening, begins its magic spell.
The two of them move nervously unaware of anyone else.
"My hands. Where do I put my hands?" his inner voice screams. Quickened
thoughts of Mom's instructions, unappreciated at the time, come to save the
day.
The music plays on and on forever and still, not long enough. In the light
of reality, this old man who leans against the tree this day, is longing for
her one more time.
In the remembering years of his life, eyes closed, he is swaying now without
concern for others watching. Perhaps with the memory of it all he is
dancing, still. But sadly, they danced their last dance just a month ago and
now he sits longing, waiting for her once more this side of the gym.
He knows that one day soon, God will interrupt his dream and call to him,
"This is the last slow dance of the evening."
There, just across the way, he will see her standing, waiting for him still.
With his last breath he will ask once more, "Dance with me?"
And the stars in heaven's ballroom will illuminate the night and the two of
them will dance this dance forever.
"Dance with me..."
Courtesy: Bob Perks |
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Bob Perks