WHEN WE DANCED

One of those little retrospective poems

when we danced
(don't laugh, my love, I call it dancing
though you may call it clowning),
when we danced
I was an old man feeling like a young man
drowning.

when you smiled
(don't laugh, my love, I called it smiling
though you may call it smirking),
when you smiled
this old heart of mine went wild at all its
working.

when we walked
(together arm in arm, my love,
though men may call it crawling)
when we walked
through fields of golden buttercups and small birds
calling
when we walked
I felt the beat of ancient drums and mountains,
falling,
long-lost melodies from heartbeat ages
like all the generations in their turns in whispered song
sprawling....

and then we danced
and laughed, my love, and called it dancing
chin by chin and some may call it dirty,
and then we danced
and you and I my love, why, we were
flirty.