TheBanyanTree: DANCING ON HIS SHOES

[smack58 at nycap.rr.com]

Thank you so much!  I still miss him even though he died more than 10 years ago.

Sharon
---- Indiglow <indiglow at sbcglobal.net> wrote: 
The picture you've painted with these words is gorgeously vivid - magical!  What a wonderful tribute to your father and recognition of the specialness of childhood when you are loved.  beautifully done!
Jana

--- On Fri, 11/5/10, smack58 at nycap.rr.com <smack58 at nycap.rr.com> wrote:


From: smack58 at nycap.rr.com <smack58 at nycap.rr.com>
Subject: TheBanyanTree: DANCING ON HIS SHOES
To: "A comfortable place to meet other people and exchange your own *original* writings. " <thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com>
Date: Friday, November 5, 2010, 10:16 AM


There are two things in this world that bring back my father to me, old records of Glen Miller and his swing music and the smell of Old Spice cologne.   Both have the power to bring a mixture of smiles and tears as I remember him.  Remember him dancing…dancing with a little girl who adored him.

DANCING ON HIS SHOES

When Sarah was a little girl 
she used to dance atop her father’s feet 
scuffing his shoes, 
but he never seemed to mind. 
He just smiled and danced on, 
leaning low, 
carrying her in his arms. 
Together they swept across the floor, 
moving like a soft summer breeze, 
swaying to the music.  
Sarah longed to learn the steps.

When Sarah turned four, 
she could finally 
dance the steps on her own.  
Sarah moved with her father so well 
that the other dancers requested 
she and her father dance for them. 

All the officers’ wives 
in beautiful pastel gowns, 
and all the handsome officers 
in well-pressed uniforms smiled 
at the small girl 
and the young lieutenant 
as they swirled across the floor, 
his arms carrying her to the rhythm.  

Sarah liked to throw her head back 
and squint her eyes as they whirled 
round and round. 
The colors from the gowns 
would twist and meld together 
at the edge of her vision.  
The dark uniforms of the men 
occasionally slashed 
between the swirls of color, 
long and thin.  

For those few moments 
Sarah felt she was beyond herself.  
She became the music.  
Dancing  always gave her a sense 
of the surreal.  
She felt like an angel, 
she felt like a princess, 
she felt loved and safe.  

When the music stopped 
and Sarah stood with her father, 
the people would smile 
and clap their hands and ask for more.