The rhythms and colours flow
Across the dancefloor of life.
Limbs freed by contentment,
Or snared in disquiet.
Bedizened in their finery,
See the nouveau riche;
Wide-brimmed hats,
Flamboyant dresses
And dangerously sharp stilettos;
Gaudy ties with double-stitched suits,
Shining, like their shoes;
Hoping their clothes are calling out
"See me, I've arrived!"
Extravaganza with disquiet
Sends out a different cry,
Calling from deep inside;
The cry of the deprived child.
The cry of a broken soul
Trying to claim their nirvana.
Mired in past degradations
And present ambitions;
No sway or flow;
Misbeats to the rhythms
On the dancefloor of life.
READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD
YOU CAN ALSO READ POSTS ON EDUCATING THE YOUNG CHILD IN WHICH SHARON SHARES HER EXPERTISE AS AN OCCUPATIONAL THERAPIST