Dancing Beneath a Gazebo
We learned to dance beneath a gazebo
in Spring Lake Park
We were fourteen
Her frizzy hair prickled my cheek
My one hand did not stray from her belt loop
We wobbled about like children of the Tin man
Wedding cake toppers,
plastic dancers on a wound music box,
snow globe residents--
were our world to shake and the snow begin to fly,
we would remain embraced
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Author's Note
I proposed to my wife near a gazebo, so that might have inspired this. Or maybe that scene from "The Sound of Music". You know the one.
Other stories by John Woodington
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Well done! This has a dream like quality to it.
Thanks CB.
Ah, Spring Lake Park! Brings back some fond memories. I love this poem, especially the series of wonderful images at the end and the wistful "were our world to shake...." Fave.