The trumpets blare,

Winding our hearts ‘til they practically

Pop with exhaustion.

The pitter-patter of feet stepping in sync

Adds to the steady beat of the snare.

A wave of bodies

Twirling arms and dancing feet.

All of which are transfixed by the

Ambiance of the dimmed light.

The beautiful chaos slows,

And the drum beat takes a softer rhythm.

The sway and ripple of the crowd

Indicates the time has now come for a slow song.

A golden voice over a microphone

Entrances party-goers such as us.

Cheek on cheek we dance,

Devoid of all thought

But here and now.

To dance forever in the lull and ebb

Of a steady swing.