Dance

In swing, if your partner compresses you compress and if he leverages away you leverage away, without connection when one speaks there is no one to hear and if you do not listen you will miss the dance. Speaking without words is no greater communication. Words can be cheap, but actions are priceless. When the end is done and my value is totaled. Respect of my comrades is worth more than gold. Rain Dogs, let me lend you my gun, my guts and my tales and we will dance till the night becomes day.

If I ever find one of these seemingly mythological Raindogs, I'll let you know straight away. Until then, how about a light and a game of billiards? Thing is, you gotta' bank the 8 three times to win.

In slow-beat, when your partner fades you fall and if they stall, you cling and hold and drape them with yourself, their shawl. With communication and someone to listen - the music of your voice is composed upon their thoughts like notes to a score. While those words have meaning and actions, consequence; there is so much more to be explored through a subtly more subdued kind of music. Allow of them to become your parchment and share with them your will... your quill, and they'll dance, dance, dance for ever more and still.

When I was a girl, I would dance on my father's feet. I remember him being so much taller than me, and being able to fit all but the last of my heels onto the leather of his shoes. They would always end up scuffed, but he never said a thing. "That's what they were made for," he said.

Domino wrote:When I was a girl, I would dance on my father's feet. I remember him being so much taller than me, and being able to fit all but the last of my heels onto the leather of his shoes. They would always end up scuffed, but he never said a thing. "That's what they were made for," he said.

(Poetry right here)