My buddy doesn’t care

Friendship.

When times are rough, it is something that can be realised, discovered or lost.

One friend, my dancing buddy, has been most forgiving of the silence.

In fact, I think my dancing buddy actually preferred the silence.

But now music is BACK.

And this friend endures my poor taste in music once more.

Oh, and my poor singing.

Not to mention the lack of actual dancing talent of any kind.

But still, the friendship’s there. Solid as a rod.

I can croon away to my heart’s content.

My buddy doesn’t care.

I can sing the Beach Boys or Chuck Berry. Huey Lewis or Doris Day.

And my buddy doesn’t care.

If I’m singing in the wrong key?

My buddy doesn’t care.

I can lead every dance and move in whatever direction I please. Sway around and around. Go from side to side. Back and forth.

My buddy doesn’t care.

Just glides along.  Stays right by my side. Right in my shadow.

I can twirl. I can swoop.

My buddy doesn’t even flinch if I squeeze too tightly.

Just goes with the flow.

As long as we finish with a clean slate.

Because my dancing buddy is …

A mop. ;-)