Wednesday, November 30, 2011



I dream I'm dancing with my girl
Our hips encurving like a burl
She whispers in my ear a charm
Before she laughs into a whirl

She spirals down my eager arm
The air between us flickers warm
My past a blur of clever days
Which somehow carried me past harm

The nearby fiddles play strathspeys
Of seismic drift and Simon Says
My feet glide over gritty beams
And friends pound tempo in the haze

I am not crippled in my dreams
My heart tells tales, like Parson Weems,
Of cloth wove whole, sans patch or seams
Of cloth wove whole, sans patch or seams

Copyright Maggie Jochild, written 30 November 2011, finished 6:27 p.m.

1 comment:

Margot said...

A jewel of a poem. So deceptively simple, and so moving.