Folded into the couch like pretzels,
like we’re part of the furniture,
inert,
holding hands,
gazing at the lights
reflecting across the lake.
And silent.
We’ve used up all of our words for the day.
Too weary even to prepare for bed.
Then,
that song.
Come darling.
Let us dance.
Let us dance like the lovers we once were
during the springs of our lives,
when all the world was possible.
Our bodies sway,
our feet respond
to the muscle memory of our youth.
I pull her close,
cheek to cheek,
breathe deeply her familiar bouquet,
brush the skin on her neck with my lips.
Another song.
Faster.
We step apart,
fingertips touching,
close in,
step apart again.
Faces smiling,
eyes sparkling.
Spirits freed.
Unbridled joy,
untethered passion.
We are revived,
energized,
reunited,
glowing.
Perspiration,
sharp breaths,
rapid pulses.
We dance,
dance until we fall exhausted
back onto the couch.
Then we laugh.
Oh, how we laugh.
For the joy of dance,
for the love of freedom,
for the spontaneity of love.