By Jim Bates

Mom's eyes are dim with memory faded, 
Words come hard and the spirit is flagging.
Then, one day,
It is as if a song begins,
And through the deep recesses of forgetfulness, 
There emerges a kind of light,
And renewed energy.
Conversation begins. 
Words once forgotten form. 
She smiles as she remembers how to speak,
Taking in her surroundings,
Observing and assimilating,
Talking and asking questions,
Almost like in the past. 
Close enough, anyway.
And I am happy for her.
We sit and chat like before.
Memories rekindle. 
Today is recognized, 
And tomorrow becomes a very real possibility.
I saw her mind dance today,
In perfect step and time with itself.
It was as if she was sixteen again,
Jitterbug dancing in her parent’s basement,
Getting ready for a dance contest.
My fingers tapped in time,
Humming along with her as we talked,
And the music played on and on.
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2 thoughts on “The Dance

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