LooNEY: I have been greatly entertained by your symbolic stories, and look forward to the next thing you write!
Meanwhile, our writer's group has been playing with some interesting challenges. We take turns to suggest themes, topics or styles. Our last one, suggested by our young writer of horror stories, was to write something, in any form, addressing the question: 'Who is dancing, and why is someone else tapping their feet?' This was my take on it:
The child is dancing to music in her head.
She dips and slides, balancing in the warm air,
Buoyed by the breeze that flicks the heads of grass
And makes the cloudpuffs scatter across the sky.
The child is dancing alone with a soft smile
Bowing to her airy partners, clasping hands
And releasing them, clasping and releasing
As she weaves her way down the waiting line of air.
Her mother smiles the same soft smile and watches
Remembering her own dances in Spring
On the new soft grass, or under the leaves in Summer,
Or under the Winter moon in a crackling frost.
Her body tingles with memory of the dancers.
Her foot taps time with the whispering pipes of the air.
