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A Waltz of Longing

In the heat of the day, we begin
With a glance and a breath, cheek to chin.
Though our steps misalign, still we glide
With a tremble of flame in our stride.

It’s a perilous waltz that we turn,
And in red and in gold, your form burns.
Don’t you fall now, my darling—hold tight—
Feel my heart race the moon through the night.

I am lost in your gaze, wholly blue,
As the ballroom dissolves into fugue,
Here in heaven with stars as our guide—
Yet the moon draws us back with the tide.

Now the mist starts to lift as I fear
That the earth sings the morning song near.
Then this poor man, who loved you the most,
Finds his muse fading back into ghost.

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Jacob Schultz is a physician who lives in Louisville, Kentucky.

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One Response

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Jacob, this is a dreamy doozy that feels like a waltz. I danced with the words through this poem. How cleverly inspired to include the word, “fugue,” as a rhyming word. This brought back memories of my vacation with evenings spent at outside waltz concerts along the Danube in June. The mystical quality was enchanting

    Reply

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