Death is nothing without its escort Life,
I see that now. And Sorrow needs Joy.
These four have the center of the dance floor.
They waltz with graceful turns—sweeping, floating—
and we cannot take our eyes off of them:
Death in deep tones and Life in light colors,
Sorrow and Joy radiant in florals.
We still to watch, thinking to emulate
their steps, their pleasure and their abandonment.
They must be in love. They anticipate each change.
Absorbed in closeness, they don’t notice us.
It’s a splendid performance. We applaud.
But Life and Death, Sorrow and Joy don’t stop
to bow. We sway to their rhythm and dance.
Posted for Sherry's prompt "In Celebration of Poetry Month - an Open Link" at What's Going On?