Woman And Her Music Poem by StacyAnn Duhaney

Swing your hips to the sound of music,
No, not age or disgrace can stall you!
For your youth is not in days,
But in the swing and sway of your movement.
You move and groove like light ripples,
On blue seas on a Sunday stroll,
You glide like breeze through coconut trees-
High atop green mountains!

You hit the notes and sometimes float-
Away … away you go!
To somewhere other than these golden years,
That people wish you would embrace.
Oh fifty is so very near,
But far from me today;
Says her turns, and twirls,
And steps.
Twirling to the beat,
Discreet and sleek,
Tender sexy movements still escape,
From within the depths of her musical regrets,
So she dances!

One more time for her divine,
Chances have been lost long ago!
But not her rhythm.
Such sounds that draws her near,
Nearer still to what could have been –
A dancer’s triumph won today for years lost and untold.
Stories of creative pieces, concerts and trophies-
Won a million minutes and intervals ago.

Curtains close, as she collects final bows,
Of those who hear but do not share the sound of music.
But still she dances, until her heart bleeds like her feet.
She feels the pain of every beat and subtle defeat,
And laments.
The sound of music plays on,
For the woman and her music.