by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris
Shadows thick enough to hold the edges of my gown up and away from uneven cobblestones beneath my feet, twirl along with me as I dance by myself.
Music drifts through the neglected garden, the high pitched notes muted by the strong arm of the fog; only the low notes, the bass and the drum beat could be heard out here.
Around and around I twirl, the drum beat rising to a crescendo. Fog and shadows merge into one, holding my hand, cradling the small of my back and still I twirl.
A sharp crack, a stone dislodges, my heel catches and down I go, dancing by myself ‘til the end.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 