The Old Man & The Old Woman


Saturday night, the old dance hall is filled,
the oil lamps flicker in beckoning warmth,
as laughter and tales through timbers resound
and the clinking of glasses salutes the day's end.
.
Ladies all seated and looking their best,
the men take note with a nod and a smile
from across the room at long wooden tables.
Tonight is as always, yet... different somehow.
.
The gentle old man, the beautiful old woman,
once lovers in a time so long before
life made so many unjust demands
and fate gave them lives to live apart.
.
But time fades away, loved ones pass on,
leaving old lovers to dream once again
of what might have been, old friends made anew,
so it is for the old man and the old woman.
.
He smiles softly from across the room,
rises slowly from old rickety chair.
His steps measure well-worn wooden floorboards,
etched with the memories of a thousand dances.
.
And even before his tired old legs
stand him in front of his sweet Lady Fair,
she smiles her love at his coming to her...
once again she is his "sweet sixteen".
.
It matters not that their faces are marked
with the lines of times not yet forgotten,
for the sparkle alight in their smiling eyes
is forever as young as their fondest dreams.
.
Her wrinkled hand held like a petal in his,
she rises up slowly out of her chair,
all eyes upon them as they embrace...
the music begins... tonight... they will dance.
.
Saturday night, the old dance hall is filled,
the oil lamps flicker in beckoning warmth,
as music and dance through timbers resound...
the old man... the old woman... tonight... they dance!
.
David Chiasson