Every Friday, live music floated down from a balcony enticing dancers out of the shadows into the light of a vast ballroom.
Men entered through doorways from the right, women from the left.
Some waited just outside the doors, ready to join the crowd.
Others hesitated a distance away, awaiting courage, to propel them forward.
Yet others, unable to take that one last step to join the dance, roamed around in the grounds, rocking and humming to the music, alone.
On this one night, every week year after year male and females met, to talk to touch and to dance.
What did they whisper together?
What hopes and dreams did they share?
What pledges of love?
What secret kisses snatched, during their weekly dancing embrace.
Once the last dance was over they had to leave, men to the right women to the left.
Taking with them the memories of the music, the thrill of human touch and their secrets to mull over and cherish till the next dance.
They were the inmates of a mental institution in the 1890s, in the North of England, it is numbing to imagine that many of them attended this dance once a week for the rest of their active lives.
© 2020 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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