Zindzile VI

A song comes on like a long lost friend

My mind is once again a dance floor

of wooden polished planks

creaking under the weight of waltzing thoughts

Am reminded of our first slow dance

how shy you were and a little embarrassed

for now and then stepping on my feet

I had never been a dancer either

but the music came on

and you had a lovely dress on

there was nothing else to do

Am reminded of that flowery summer dress

few inches shy of your knees

that you love because it flatters your waistline

Am reminded of the scent of your neck

and blots of tears on my shoulder

My Zindzile—the selfsame song came on again today

And my feet itched for a dance

My arms reached out in the empty air—for your waist

All the while all alone – listening

I muttered under my breath

What a waste, what a waste

What a waste of a good song!