The Widow’s Waltz

The Widow’s Waltz

She danced alone in faded silk,

Her shoes still shined, her hair still neat,

The gramophone was old and tired,

But sang the tune her heart would keep.

Each step she took was memory’s ghost,

Each twirl a name, each sigh a vow,

Her husband’s portrait watched her move,

With eyes still young, though she was now.

The neighbours whispered soft and kind,

That she’d gone mad to dance alone,

But madness, she would gently smile,

Was simply love that won’t atone.

She waltzed until the dawn broke pale,

Until the needle reached its end,

Then bowed before the empty air,

And whispered softly, “Dance again.”

When morning came, the curtains swayed,

The record spun though none had turned,

And in the light, two shadows danced,

As if their hearts had still not learned.