A voice from better

            (or at least younger)

days

Memories swell

until my mind tries to

                        Burst

My synapses recall

my left hand holding her right

while my right is flattened on her back

and we dance close while

My ear remembers

strains of “Wonderland By Night”

my feet ache to move

                        to glide

her across the floor

My being wants to take her

once more to the Junior Prom

to “Twist again like we did last summer”

a June more than forty years gone

A voice

the same

            not quite

memories real

            or improved by time

of dances

            walks

                        talks

Love young

            unjaded

wracking my recollections

finding none of how

                          why

we                        parted

Of how

     why

naught remains but a voice