Out in the middle of the floor
Poppa and nana dance,
To a song, an up-tempo rendition
Of an old much loved classic,
Curiously out of rhythm with the music
They hold hands and laugh,
As they’re transported fifty years back
To the time they first met,
Nana in her short skirt, giggling,
And poppa with long hair
Trying hard to catch her attention,
Back then the dance floor
Was the place for courtship,
Back then, they knew all the words
And could keep time with the music,
Out in the middle of the floor
Poppa and nana still dance,
Their grey haired heads
Strangely nodding against the beat,
Robbed by dementia, nana’s mind has gone,
But in her eyes there’s a twinkle
A memory of fifty years back,
Of when poppa, nervously,
First asked her to dance
And she said “Yes”.
Diane Scantlebury
