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.