“If someone had been there to record it”
If someone had been there to record it
they would have gotten quite the scene.
The dinning hall, wooden beams holding up a cathedral-like
ceiling, sun prancing in through
the double-door sized windows,
reflecting off of the sugary floors.
There was a lull,
no little camper-boys begging for another apple blossom
no tribe chants with clapping and stomping
no chairs scraping against the wooden floors
no more chores to be done.
Alternative music was filling the hall,
she chose to dance.
In her khaki pants and pony tail
she began spinning and jumping,
pulling me in to join her mirth.
She called it interpretive dancing
waving her arms like ribbons in a breeze,
sliding to the floor to strike a dramatic pose.
We added our laughter to the music.
I miss my friend.