She’d lived a life of chastity

Devoid of boys or men

Some fifty years of life alone;

Well, almost – until Ben.

 

He met her quite by accident

Both at the Old Folks Dance;

They chatted over biscuits,

Discussing potted plants.

 

Ramrod straight and military,

Grey haired and nuthatch-neat,

His gentlemany tete-a-tete

Complicit and discreet.

 

And then again on Tuesday week,

Arriving at the dance

She saw him tall above the rest,

Caught guilty by his glance.

 

He greeted her with stoop and bow

But neither forced nor false ;

He asked her for the foxtrot

Which followed with a waltz.

 

Then Tuesdays after Tuesdays

They’d dance from 12 till 2;

Companionship was effortless

And love between them grew.

 

She was not swept up from her feet

In giggly teenage trance

But with a slow maturity

Which age and wisdom grants.

 

One day, though, he didn’t come

Nor even called her back;

He’d passed away the night before -

A sudden heart attack. 

 

But life bears fruits of mysteries

Both Biblical and strange,

Phenomena which can’t beset

A woman past The Change.

 

Thus Ben lives in her heart and arms

Mementos of their dance

Twin daughters, Serendipity,

And sister, Happenstance.