My suit is wrinkled, fresh yet wasted
Food is before me, barely tasted
Everyone dances, their dates close at hand
I sit alone, yet I understand
This should faze me, yet somehow I don't care

The floor is neon lit and the room is dark
Colours there to illuminate, to bring a spark
I walk through the couples who dance away
My mind is blurred as the music plays
My Ex-date sees me and stares the other way
"Its alright" I say, I predicted she would never stay
She finds my consideration queer
I carry on walking, my direction never steers

I'm outside in the cold, my hands feel numb
My mind is faded, to darkness I succumb
"Thyreez" I hear a voice in the wind
I see her and the real night begins
No face is needed, I Remember the voice
I stare from the balcony, the venue was a great choice
"So I" she speaks, but I'm not bothered to listen
The shadow holds my hand, I push it back
"Go on, go inside, go enjoy your final year, go grab a snack"
She finds my request rude and storms in
I'm alone, a silent but well deserved win
I check my phone "19:45" 2 more hours
The rest of the night will be spent staring at towers

"Just half a step
too slow", she said
"You don't have to
chase the beat..
Let rhythm oil those
bones", she laughed,
"and flow to
your two left feet.
It's nothing you have
to try to do..
We're all born to dance.
But some of us are
self aware and won't
give ourselves a chance.."

She smiled and put
her hand in mine and
it calmed my busy brain
And the whole night
we spent cheek to cheek  
Dancing in the pouring rain.

don't ask how I am
I might confess with riven words
I am trying out dances for
one thousand and one nights
like a Scheherazade of unforseen
whispers

Giving my word that this time I will change
Promise kept for once indeed is something strange
Read lips when I say to you "Help me stay strong"
Painting your flaws red will always feel wrong
The way to reach goals is to grow to rely
On each other til the storm passes us by
It's learning to trust without question or concern
In rain until this painful period is adjurned
Waiting for strength to flood limbs
Clear each cloud away that dims
To dance on fingertips so near
Keep looking but it never reappears

In the depths of my soul, a question does arise.
When will I cease to weave verses about your guise?
For with every breath, your essence fills my pen,
And my words dance in rhythm, again and again.

(An exercise to write a sonnet in iambic pentameter)

With heavy heart, I offer my remorse,
for I'm too tired to dance this weary eve.
The echoes of my workday's tireless chores
linger, leaving naught but fatigue's relief.

Oh, believe me, I hate to disappoint,
for the music tempts me to sway and dance.
But the hours I've toiled, each task and each point,
have drained me to a tired nudnik, perchance.

My spirit, once bright, now longs for respite,
to find solace in rest and heal my self.
Though my love for dance burns hot like cordite,
exhaustion demands I stay on the shelf.

Forgive me, my friend, tonight I must rest,
but once refreshed, we’ll fete and dance with zest.

It’s a holiday weekend, all of the ‘fellows’ have Monday off.
At lunch Wednesday, Lisa said, “We need a throw-down.”
So, we made some invites and started spreading word around.
“You know, we all work hard enough, we need to get down!”
We asked for RSVPs, and got 43, for the effort, a decent payoff.

My sister’s apartment has a balcony and plenty of space.
We spent Saturday shopping and rearranging the place.
Early Sunday, we hid all the breakables and decorated,
As people settled in, things took off - as we’d anticipated.

I was surprised when I saw Quinn come in
I quietly turned to Lisa, mouthing, “Who invited him?”
The blush on her face, gave her instantly away,
“We couldn’t NOT invite him, we see him every day.”

More people were arriving, laughing and smiling, the party was thriving.
Everyone seemed to bring something, a bottle of Canadian goose,
a bucket of KFC, another of Popeyes, some glowing aurora jungle juice,
taco dip and chips, a Boston Creme pie and a cake with purple icing.

When you feel right, you let the music ignite you,
the beat seems to drive you, the vibe helps excite you,
the bass starts to thump and, well, you’re only young once,
you forget all your cares, for a delirium that’s shared.

In this ocean of joy, I saw a sad and reserved boy.

It was Quinn, in the corner, slouching on the couch.
a model of insecurity, watching the party self consciously,
I looked at Lisa, rolled my eyes, and said, “Why ME?”

I maneuvered over and took Quinn gently by the shoulders,
“Come ON, Quinn, you’re among friends, so embrace the funk,
these GIRLS wanna dance, give ‘em a chance, you’re not a monk!”
I pulled him to his feet, and dragged him over to Monique.
“Quinn, Monique - Monique, Quinn - let the dancing begin!”

By the end of the night Quinn was doing all right.
He has a quirky, awkward style, reconciled by a nice smile,
he’d danced with every girl, leaving them a little beguiled.
“Do it Quin, DO IT!” A girl, at one point, had laughed.
“Oh,” he’d said, gyrating in his herky-jerkily away, “It’s being DONE!”

Who could have known our stuffy, Harvard Quinn could be fun?!