I saw him on the benches,
wrapped in my jacket tight,
his body shivering with fever,
and his face drawn with fright.
I longed to go and snuggle,
to offer him my warmth and care,
but I was practicing my street dance,
and I couldn't leave it there.
So I watched him from a distance,
as he slept beneath my coat,
and I felt my heart break open,
with a longing and a hope.
I wanted to be there for him,
to hold him close and tight,
to let him know he wasn't alone,
in the brightness of the light.
But I had to keep on dancing,
to perfect my moves and style,
to make my dreams a reality,
and let my passion run wild.
So I danced with all my heart,
and gave it my very best,
knowing that when I was done,
I could offer him my rest.
And when I returned to the benches,
he was awake and feeling better,
and I knew that my street dance practice,
had helped us both weather.
For in that moment of separation,
we found a deeper kind of love,
one that could withstand the fever,
and the pain that it does bring thereof.
And so I danced and loved him,
in my own special way,
knowing that we'll always have each other,
no matter what may come our way.
