This is a lovely photograph from Dale, showing a tropical lightness for the dark nights. I wonder how vibrant the dance hall was before it closed.
A shout out to our Friday-Fictioneer host, Rochelle, for selecting the prompt.
More contributions from the group are available by clicking HERE.
Dance Hall Blues
When the alien pandemic flushed human life.
Beautiful Anne died.
I remember this dance hall where we met.
Forever closed.
The band played and the singer sang.
Let’s twist again, let’s twist again.
Are ye dancing. My ballroom-twang.
Are ye asking?
She fizzed like bubbling champagne.
Dancing, prancing across the hall,
Twisting legs, shaking hips and arms.
Are ye winching. My ballroom-bawl.
Are ye asking?
Full of sweet smiling charms.
Lights turned low and the music slow.
Bodies in close with swaying moves.
I’ll walk you home, when it’s time to go.
Not a chance!
She’s wearing fancy new shoes.
James McEwan 