There she stood
in the middle of the maze.
The maze was the rhythm
on and on
threatening to conquer
my feet surrendered.
Every other sound took to backstage
it was as if the violin took the center stage.
Frolicking in the grassy fields of
Running hands through the
dewy blades of grass.
The rhythm curled up
my tongue smitten
to its charm
every chord rolled off
so smoothly like butter…
my dreams took to a different place.
The rhythm is infectious
its ways are contagious
hypnotic beckoning of celebration
oh! you sound sweet.
My feet are barely catching up.
4 thoughts on “Prompt #11 (Inspired by Swallowtail Jig j.r.m©)”
I’m a fiddler and was a professional Irish dancer for fifteen years. This poem hits home for me. Thanks for creating and sharing!
thank you 🙂
The commanding sounds of the violin haunting the walls.