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The Dance by Helen Cadbury

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1 Minute Read

In the dream

I am younger,

the room is huge

and I dance

over a wooden floor.

I do it often. It’s what I do.

I have a huge room,

as high as a church,

to myself and I dance across

its beautiful wooden floor

again and again.


When I wake

the dance is still in me.

It lightens my limbs

moves me to the kitchen.

The coffee brews on the hob

and I dance back and forth

from the table

to the fridge

and I am young

again and again.

By Helen Cadbury, Crime Writer & Poet. Died 30th June 2017

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