Three count waltz

I live today to a three count waltz

slower rhythm than the pulsing free form

of youth or the shim sham tap of middle age

Death’s soft one

two

three

step is an easy count

a muted movement through days of astonishing solitude

pouring sensuous circles on the dance floor of my aging

On occasion I am joined by swirling companions

silently counting steps of recalled melodies

held in the sweet textured folded fabric of our pasts

Even for those who can no longer dance

there, under skin and bone, exotic rhythms still beat

where they hear the one

two

three

count of lives passing

reminding us

still

we are

alive