Father Daughter Dance

My dreams were crushed again as the colored lights
dimmed. My uncle beamed as he rose
to his feet to ask his little girl to dance.
She stayed planted, embarrassed at her father’s
request. If only she knew it could’ve been her last
chance. Regret welled up and threatened to fall

from my downcast eyes. I couldn’t let it fall,
not when there was so much eagerness lighting
my uncle’s eyes, but his daughter’s refusal lasted
second upon second more. “Samantha Rose,”
I hear in my long gone father’s
voice. “May I have this dance?”

I would drape my small seven year old frame on him. We’d dance,
and finally my awkward feet would fall
off of his. We were to sway elegantly during our father
daughter dance at my wedding. We would be light
on our abnormally thick feet together. He’d hand me a delicate, fresh rose
From which I was named. That dream couldn’t last.

If only I had known that that one chance had been my last
at a friend’s wedding. I would have lived on the dance
floor that night. The volume of the music rose
as the tender, sweet footfalls
of loving partners that would eventually light
the night with their beaming smiles increased. My cousin’s father;

however, frowned. “Go dance with your father,”
I begged. I pleaded, “This may be your last
chance.” I reminded her of the night the light
faded from my father’s eyes. Tears danced
at the corners of my eyes. She let her defenses finally fall.
I plucked the thorns from the fresh cut rose

on my table and tucked it behind her ear. The roses
returned to her nervous cheeks as she took her father’s
hand. Although it was inevitably nightfall,
people stepped and swayed as though the day would last
if their feet would just shuffle to just one more dance.
That night, the sun paled to the lively moonlight.

I turned to see the fading light from the face of my grandfather,
and I rose from my chair. I prayed he wouldn’t fall
as I granted him this one last dance.