The dancer


The best of dancers ruined by a host

Of summer loves that soon to winter fall.

So much to see ‘tween winter and the fall.

The call to choose and slip the hand from glove

To slip away from splendor of that love.

Crescendo reached and still she dances on

Life is too short to settle for the less.

Eshoo my heart; don’t make the dreadful choice!

Now hover, soul, all poesy within

Must play all choices made and here and now.