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D.E.Z. Butler

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I Played Your Dance
by D.E.Z. Butler

Monday, August 13, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by D.E.Z. Butler
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           >> View all 9

Love that is now out of step.

I Played Your Dance
D.E.Z. Butler

The days and nights were hot and full of you,
as we danced the hours away, the mask you had
covered all your face and kept me holding onto
our dance steps, ever so carefully
Then again the music played, louder and louder
never did I want to dance the rhythm you
swayed too, or did I
Your hands felt warm before they turned cool
your eyes were soft before they turned hard,
or did they

My dreams find me next to you and we are
dancing to the music but then you change
a step or two and I find myself out of step
with you, or do I
Confusion is there when I think of you, your
mind was mine, but your steps went somewhere
else, or did they
Holding onto you as we danced had me feel safe,
your arms so strong and when I slipped you stopped
my fall, or did you
Our hearts beat together on the dance floor, you flung
me away from you with ease and then back to you, the
flow of the music was unchanged, our love was one with
the music, or was it
I challenge you to forget our songs and steps, I want to
dance again with you, but then I drift back to the time
you had me dance only for you as you watched, over and
over again I danced for you, or did I
Now I find my hands reaching out to you, but they slip
from your fingers, not wanting to dance for you again,
Our rhythm fell out of step and I never want to dance or
play your dance for you again, or don’t I

Leave now, I don’t know anymore how to dance
your dance, I only know that I played your
dance and stayed with you until the music’s end

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Reviewed by Regis Auffray 10/22/2012
Yes, I can relate to what you express in these verses. The theme is sadly a universal and timeless one in this world/life. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes,

Reviewed by La Belle Rouge Poetess Of The Heart 8/21/2012
So poignant and soulfelt.
Reviewed by Amor Sabor 8/19/2012
It is frustration at the outcome of this dance that would come to bear no more fruit. Excellent piece, D.E.Z.
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 8/15/2012
Got me thinking about an old girlfriend–we were dancing fools. But then I see that your poem is a metaphor for a controlling relationship that you were in until the music died.

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