how few can tell me how it feels
to dance at night in bright moonlight
sand under heels
crushing the grapes of life
to make the wine ready, steady, ready
to drink in a goblet shaped like the joy
that we really don't get from lives left to crumble
tumbling
rumbling thunder of a dream storm
we can welcome with a sweet laugh
and yet the other half of life still waits
for us further down the bless'd beach
if you dare to really take a new chance
new dance
new stance
upon a beach
that is in reach
if you can still
feel it
steal it
seal it
with a bold and barefoot giggle
because the midnight sands tickle
but not as much
as life
if you let it. 


copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv)