Dancing under violets
In a medow filled with light
A storm was fast approaching
But was never in my sight
Took an innocent victim
As he slowly lost his life
The medow filled with clouds
That made it dark as night
No longer am i dancing
For without you it's not right
There's not a song that i can dance to
Without you by my side

We lock eyes across the bar
Hit pool ***** with sticks
Clink glasses filled with drinks
And dance badly to songs on the jukebox

We buy shots with our friends
Gossip on the stairs
Hug when the night ends

The student soundtrack to our love story

the windows have frosted over
shattering pinprick traffic lights
into stellar beams

teahouse tables pushed to the side
soft swing music floats overhead
we shed our coats and our inhibitions

clasped hands and an arm draped
softly on the small of my back
we stumble and laugh

snow falls in the night air
the room warms with music and joy
and we dance

Some may think it odd

                    to see me outside

     dancing around

              with the wind as my guide....

I have so many stories, yet none.

But there once was a flower in the corner.

It told me something of importance, something it clung too, yet didn't.

It danced under the moon.

I asked "of all places, must I ask, why the moon? Isn't it just deep?"

"It is nothing deep, yet even more so then ever," it said, "I'd much rather prefer a mess of comfort, than a cleaned smile."

That flower treated the moon not as a gatekeeper meant to take you to the next day, but as an old friend that will always be.