about the studio and what happened there
nothing was soft about this studioalthough it was filled with light
there were walls, windows and doors
the floor was wide and hard no give
not one crack just smooth cold concrete
the kind that burns beggars knees
cinder block walls painted blue
at least once or maybe twice then white
stains seep through from first layer to last
without pattern or design
left by years of what leaked from the ceiling
rusted frames hold window glass
coated with what ever hangs in the air
mixed with what the rain washes off the roof
this was the place he took her
the studio where he sang and
encouraged her to dance
to dance like it was an ethereal stage
twisting her heart so tight
that she never noticed how hard this place felt
because she was truly of the softest essence
moved by the music of his voice
her hands wide open in beseechment
her feet sore from turning, stepping
movements exceeding grace
in poignant ways words can not capture
achieved like the tenderest sacrifice
breathing in gasps and
he can not bring himself to end his song
til she falls in exhaustion
dashed to the floor
finding that the light has dimmed
to near darkness only after she is done
after his throat is raw and he must scoop her up
and carry her home in silence.
Judith A. Sears
©09/09/2019
5,839 Prime Words 