Slow Dance


This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital. It was sent by a medical doctor. I do not know any more information about it than that. Enjoy.

Have you ever watched kids

On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.

Don’t dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won’t last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?

When you ask “How are you?”

Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done

Do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores

Running through your head?

You better slow down.

Don’t dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won’t last.

Ever told your child,

“We’ll do it tomorrow?”

And in your haste,

Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, or let a good

friendship die?

Because you never had time

To call and say, ‘Hi’

You better slow down.

Don’t dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won’t last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere

You miss half the fun of getting there

When you worry and hurry through your day,

It is like an unopened gift….

Thrown away.

Life is not a race.

Do take it slower

Hear the music

Before the song is over.

  1. #1 by Jalid on December 15, 2009 - 11:32 pm

    Beautifull poem sweetheart.
    I wish i knew your name or adress so I can send you a poetry book, filled with poetry and love.
    I dont know if you are still there or in a better place i just dont know what else to say….

  2. #2 by Jalid on December 15, 2009 - 11:39 pm

    Here is one from a writer whose name is Nahida from Palestine Think Tank. I dont know if you are knowledgable about politics or world affairs but i think that in good poetry the main purpose is to FEEL the pain, joy or anger coming from its author just like yours did me,

    LOOK AT ME
    I would love to write poetry about love,
    Paint rainbows and butterflies,
    Smell the scent of pink rose buds,
    And dance;
    Dance with the melody of jubilant bluebirds

    I would love to close my eyes and see children smiling
    No guns pointing at their heads
    Tell them stories of lily-like fairies in far-away lands
    Not of bullets shrieking . . . of missiles exploding
    But
    How can I?
    There is a dagger in my heart
    I am hurting
    Hurting
    I bleed,
    I cringe
    I cry
    HUMANITY, WHERE ARE YOU?
    I am being slaughtered
    Under your watchful eyes
    I am cold . . . cold . . . cold
    I cringe
    I cry
    Humanity, where are you?
    Why do you turn your face away?
    Why do you keep looking the other way?
    I am here
    Languishing
    In Gaza’s alleyways
    Humanity, where are you?
    Look at me
    See me
    I am here
    Sighing
    In Gaza’s alleyways
    I cringe
    I cry
    Humanity,
    Enough turning the other way !
    Turning a deaf ear
    Turning a blind eye
    While I,
    and oh ! my poor children
    Die

  3. #3 by Jalid on December 15, 2009 - 11:52 pm

    And you are so right,
    Lotsa people, mostly children abandoned out there. As we frantically continue the race towards more material gain. People would rush to work even if they KNEW tommorow was our last day here on earth.
    I sit by smoking a cigarrette while watching people rushing to work almost as if they had a diarhea attack.
    Bumping into each other as they work their cell phones!
    so when i read your poem above, it all materialised,

    “When you ask “How are you?”
    Do you hear the reply?
    When the day is done
    Do you lie in your bed
    With the next hundred chores
    Running through your head?”

    Or this part here,

    “Because you never had time
    To call and say, ‘Hi’
    You better slow down.
    Don’t dance so fast.”

    oh? another lady just run into that telephone poll down the street!
    !!I swear! it just happened!
    I wish you were here so we can both crack up a loud laugh!
    bye

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