Dance

She is me and I am her, different but the same, separate yet one. Our years together have been many and I remember when we were still young souls, flitting around each other like excited moths sharing a flame, dancing: closer, further, closer, still closer, at last together. And together we remain, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, not because we have to but because we choose to, bound by love, duty and devotion. Occasionally our intertwined souls grate against each other as irritants, spoiling the dance, but over time the rough edges are refined and and the dance becomes more splendid.

Now there are little souls to watch our dance, to watch it slow, and to find dances of their own. Soon our dance will be done and I wonder what then; perhaps we only leave a trail of beauty in this universe, perhaps we get to dance in the next, or perhaps we only get to live in the dances of our little ones, but I'd miss not dancing.