It will be a year on Nov 23rd since Grant’s passing. I am not sure how his dress shoes ended up in our closet but if they could talk, I believe this is the story they would tell. This is for a great brother in law and friend who's greatest passion was for his wife Darlene. He also loved a chance to dance.
The Shoes of Grant MacDonald
I see the way you look at me
with sad eyes full of sympathy.
I'm in the dark and all alone,
behind closed doors and now unowned.
But you don’t need to cry for me
cause I have had the chance to dance.
Pounding streets to avoid defeat,
some struggle just to make ends meet.
And then when worn completely thin,
become discarded in a bin.
Left down stairs to their own demise,
sometimes dreading the next sunrise.
Some seem pleased with the lot they’ve drawn,
hanging back to let some move on.
Polishing daily to impress
but hardly able to suppress
an empty feeling deep inside.
Not having danced for quite some time.
On a crowded floor you can’t move
unless you step on a toe or two.
The vibe runs deep when souls connect,
when rhythms are forever synced.
The friendly faces now approve.
They’ve seen my style and my moves.
I am amongst the favored few.
The music played as if on queue.
I strutted to that rock and roll.
It resonated in my toes.
To country tunes I kicked my heels,
and stepped in time with jigs and reels.
And later when the tempo slowed
I knew that soon I’d have to go.
But not before the waltz was done
and I felt two hearts beat as one.
Towards the end I was well spent
but pleased with how my time was spent.
Oh, you don’t need to cry for me
cause I have had the chance to dance.
Yes, maybe I will dance again
but even if this is the end,
fight back the tears and make a toast
because I have danced more than most.
© Barry King 2019. Thanks for reading. Feel free to share a link to this page if you think others might like to read it.
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