Last Dance
Slavka Bozovic
I remember one summer from my youth
when I agreed to go to the ball, with a loved one,
since then, grief has been measured in decades
and, my heart breaks when I remember that June night.
It was our unique evening,
I wore the dress he bought me,
a hug shone around my neck instead of a necklace,
and through a kiss he whispered to me:
"My love, you will be the most beautiful tonight."
Holding hands on the podium, we stopped,
a storm of applause shook the hall,
we enjoyed the beauty that overshadowed everything
and not realizing that this was our last dance.
And now it's like I hear those magical footsteps,
and a striking expression sewn to the lash
as I intertwined with him,
as if his firm hands had turned me into a bird.
There is still indescribable sadness in my heart,
and the outlines of the time when the summer night was fleeing,
our last dance that was divine,
the game of unfortunate fate overshadowed everything.
I'm still keeping a black piece of tulle,
I never wore his dress again,
a sad swallow nestled in my heart
it reminds me of the last dance and lost love.
Maybe he hears the melody of this song in the distance
I'll ask the wind to take it to him,
so that he may whisper to him that he is left, sorrow and my eternal restlessness,
as well as pain packed into a letter without an address.
© Slavka Bozovic
Country: Montenegro
