An Endless Dance

 

On a bitter cold winters night in the poorest part of town.
Where abandoned homes and factories crumble slowly down.
A discarded place that once stood proud still was someone’s home.
There in a room of family gatherings one sat all alone.
A grimy soul in tattered clothes and ill fitting worn out shoes.
The kind of man that’s turned away with out the least excuse.
In earlier times when he was young he dressed so very well.
His honor earned was taken when he accidentally fell.
Stricken to a weaker state with the impairment to his mind.
A mean and frightening world was waiting for him to find.
His refuge was this place forgotten like some distant dream.
It was his castle play ground at least to him it seemed.
As the night wore on he felt the pain that only cold can bring.
In a trash can lid he built a fire and faintly he would sing.
Too cold to move and search for wood he used his paper bed.
First that burned was his covering saving some to rest his head.
Up in the air danced charring flakes that quickly loose their glow.
As piece-by-piece rose overhead they’d drift down white as snow.
He saw somehow ash form into dancers turning in the air.
How he wished as he watched to be dancing with them there.
Laying down he saw the last flickering amber wave him to his sleep.
In his rest he remembered the dancers a vision he would keep.
In a vacant house a huddled man is dancing and held so tenderly.
A cold reality has been replaced where he’ll dance eternally.