{"id":49568,"date":"2013-07-04T10:19:01","date_gmt":"2013-07-04T18:19:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=49568"},"modified":"2013-07-04T10:19:01","modified_gmt":"2013-07-04T18:19:01","slug":"tiny-dancer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=49568","title":{"rendered":"Tiny Dancer"},"content":{"rendered":"

I wrote this in 1986, inspired by a girl I met at work — Becky Hanzlick<\/a>:<\/p>\n

You must have seen her
\nDancing in the sand <\/em><\/p>\n

Elton John<\/p>\n

Through the fog of another sleepless night,
\nI see her beside me dancing in the sand.
\nTwisting, turning, leaping, and spinning,
\nLeaving her mark on the grains of time.<\/p>\n

A crack of lighting pierces winter sky,
\nA burst of bright on a December morn.
\nNature’s anger fails to disturb her, she
\nGlides over cold and jagged rock,
\nFloats over cruel and raging surf.<\/p>\n

Foam-flecked waves crash to shore
\nExploding in rage against the cliff,
\nDrenching her in diamond showers.
\nWind whips back her blond hair
\nBrings a flush to her pale face.
\nHer lips caress a Mona Lisa,
\nHer eyes glint of steel, of
\nShining determination.<\/p>\n

Surf roars in my ears
\nSea stings my eyes.
\nI shout but the wind
\nSwallows my voice.
\nShe can’t hear me,
\nShe can’t see me.
\nJust a shape now,
\nDancing o’er sea,
\nFarther and
\nFarther
\nAway
\nFrom
\nMe.<\/p>\n

Flashes of Color <\/font><\/p>\n

The old man grimaced into the wind. Bundled in blankets, he sat in his rocking chair on the porch watching the sun throw flares of red, pink and orange over the ocean. Thin strands of white hair blew back against his forehead as the wind picked up force, whistling across the sea, flecking waves, spraying sand, charging inland leaving scatterings of autumn leaves in its wake.<\/p>\n

Half an hour ago, before the wind started blowing, the yard had been perfect. Every leaf, every blade of grass was in its place. Now, rocking in his chair, the old man watched his day’s work destroyed in a moment.<\/p>\n

Strains of Handel’s Largo came from inside the house, waves of sound cascading over piles of books and old photos–photos of the old man with important people, photos of the old man doing important things, photos of the old man thinking important thoughts. There were photos everywhere. The old man dominated all of them, looking the same in different poses–tough, cool, and ambitious.<\/p>\n

Outside the temperature dropped quickly, down five degrees in the last twenty minutes. Blankets were a puny defense against this wind. It pierced them and knifed through his thin body, convulsing him in bouts of coughing. Recovering, he wiped the blood off his lips and sat straight in his chair, all dignity.<\/p>\n

Occasional flashes of color caught the old man’s eye in the fading light. Some of his azaleas were in bloom, a ragged bloom, a foretelling of a magnificent spring to come, should they survive winter. The color triggered something in his mind and the old man struggled with a memory–a memory of beauty dancing in the sand. For the last time the old man smiled, as she drifted away from him, dissolving in the waves and dying with the sun.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I wrote this in 1986, inspired by a girl I met at work — Becky Hanzlick: You must have seen her Dancing in the sand Elton John Through the fog of another sleepless night, I see her beside me dancing … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[21],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-49568","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-personal"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49568","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=49568"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49568\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":49569,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49568\/revisions\/49569"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=49568"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=49568"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=49568"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}