The walls were warm,
in the chill night air,
the ambience was cool,
you had to be there.

At the edge of the dance floor,
taking her hand,
slid out on the parquet,
feeling so grand.

The guitar was wailing,
that mournful sound,
it was gently weeping,
as we spun around.

Slow dancing in the dark,
hip grinding on hip,
we melted into one,
magic sailing ship.

Whispering the words,
of the song in our ears,
the magic carpet of dance,
flows down through the years.

When suave was smooth,
we were in the groove,
the sky was the limit,
and we were on the move.

If only to have,
that last dance,
once again,
before the lights go down.

*Also the title of a classic song
by Rob Thomas and Carlos Santana.

Checking Out Technique

Checking Out Technique ©

Remembering those magical moments on the dance floor.

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Copyright 2017 © Ronald W. Hull


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