I love to Dance . . . . .

I love to Dance

At the edge of the forest, I hear a call

A beckoning, a call to only me

I enter reluctantly, cautiously

 Drawn into this sea of trees

Wandering deeper in this land of gloom

The trees grow so close, there is barely room for me

Standing silent, as sentinels guarding a tomb

The canopy, so complete, a soul can barely see

I trod deeper, but there, there ahead of me

A clearing of trees, an opening of the canopy

Where sun drenched grasses run free

Deep in this sea of trees

Among the grasses, an island of soil rises

Adorned with a simple cross of stone

A grave in the clearing in front of me

 I kneel in respect and look up to see

Who has been laid here?

Upon this island in a sea of trees

Etched with care and grace

The name of a familiar face

An old friend of mine, lies here

A companion from my youthful years

Alas, now he is silent and his cry I will no longer hear

For it is caution who has been laid to rest, here

Good, now I have a place to dance!

I never liked that old fool anyway

He never strayed nor ever took a chance

If he had not perished, my old restrained and foolish friend

I would have thrown him, body and soul, to the wind

I could never imagine nor ever believe

 I would have found him, resting on an island

An island, in a sea of trees

He never strayed nor ever took a chance

He never knew . . . . I love to dance