Lessons in life part 13….dance when you don't want to

The lock was frozen, the key unturned, until
Ballroom blitz oiled my mechanism, tumbling
like a mad Yorkie skiting across front room furniture.
Using the Ewbank to reach, I spun the big light,
searching with the Sweet sirens of Blockbuster,
the guitar came in to electrify me
and the gate to music was open.
 
The elegance of the Waltz is not lost on me
their grace and style are just too many miles
for my inhibitions to travel, the mothered hand
that pulls me into the North Sea, shin splinted
and knock kneed, shaking like a dog’s back leg.
I could never do their walk to the dancefloor.
 
So, you’ll find me at the Barn dance
steeped in apples, rosy as my cheeks,
clapping and stomping midst bales of hay.
The churning circles of earth and moon
generates a basic gravity
that pulls everyone into the room,
flooding the floor with hollers and hand claps.
 
I’ve headbanged my way to the wrong side
of many days, but somehow it seems
to slip away like a lost balloon, let go
at the fairground of lunch time discos
smudged with hand stamped ink,
it all makes me stop and think.
 
And so, no more will I say no, or shake
my head from a wall flower's seat
when all I have to do is stand and walk,
take her outstretched hand.
 
From now on I’m just going to dance,
stride across the room, throw myself  
to the middle aged mosh pit,  
move along side the shinny people
my tie will become my bandana,
Force myself to the center of their circle,
just let the spotlight try to stop me.