Just a poem about a woman I saw dancing at the Montreal tam-tams (every Sunday in a park that faces Park)

Lady in Purple

Caught her dancing to drums,

Near a statue to some war hero,

Just a woman in a purple dress I guess,

No you’re wrong, there’s something deeper!

As she dances in a way that’s changing,

Changing as the beat picks up and slows down,

The occasional flute punctuating the drums,

Drums of difference but the same tune!

Her light brown hair moves in the wind,

As she dances to the tune,

She spins and she shakes,

Her body gyrates, her arms move like snakes.

I see her face, it has a smile,

That is slight,

She has hair that is brown,

And light.

Maybe she wants me to come closer,

Or not, But I don’t really know,

For she and her dance are a mystery.

But one thing is clear, a ring on her left hand,

Flashes as she moves it very fast,

It is a double red signal served on a silver platter,

As for being friendly, all I can do is admire her,

Saying anything I just cannot do!

She dances and then she stops,

She walks off, fades into the miasma,

The blanket of humanity,

The rift!

If I’ll see her again is unknown,

But I remember her special dance in my mind,

I can never forget the Lady in Purple.

~Ra’akone