Picture couresy of Bing
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Multicolored lighting amidst the sound of rhythmic thunder pounded the huge hall. The laughter and droning noises had a hollow metallic sound. The human Ferris wheel was in motion around the center spoke. Quick glaces, smiles…some real other’s set in concrete faces. There was quiet desperation set in the eyes of many. Touching in passing moments of movement were soft warm bodies pressed against arms hips brushing fingertips. Out of loneliness did I seek this place a passenger on a self-made time machine. I am tired of too many futures coming to this moment. I want the warmth of my youth. Child-book romance where just the touch of a hand freezes time in its beauty. Primitive drums change tempo the words are lost to the sensation of physical self. Reality is moved to the edge of pulsating light beneath the feet of bodies in tune with the sound. Paired dancers locked in self-love unaware of each other. A checkerboard of kings and queens without mates in a game without end. Surrender whispers the voice within. A reflection on a mirrored wall looks intently at a standing figure. A misplaced look of aging shown in salt and peppered hair with growing signs of age around the eyes. The dream of youth shatters. The Guardian of Time Present leaves through the portal marked “Exit.” The dream is no more.
Texas Poetry 
Poetry is such a lost art. Back before we had eighty million channels and nothing to watch, we used to sit around and listen to record albums and read each other things–sometimes Walt Whitman, sometimes Dylan Thomas.
Great blog!
Reblogged this on Texas Poetry and commented:
This afternoon on September 26th, 2012 I found myself in one of the local WalMarts in McKinney, Texas. As I was walking the rows I came across a full length mirror. At first I was shocked in realizing that the individual in the full length mirror was me. I was immediately reminded I now was an elderly man. I then remembered reading many years ago that a man’s self-image locks-in when he reaches 45 and from that point forward that self-image remains with him. I was reminded of this poem, which is one of my major first written poems, where the individual in the disco club (me) came to the same reality. The mirror reminded me that changes thru our lifes is always on-going and sadly without mercy toward us.