Our foxtrot wasn't good, but then again,
it wasn't bad before, alas, my heel
impaired that poor man's shin and yet I feel
that you were leading rather well ‘till then.
The Samba tempo's captivating thrall
seduced us to abandon Earthly care.
Our spirals had finesse and to be fair,
we only once collided with the wall.
And when I fell, I know you did not gloat,
that was instead, a sympathetic grin.
I swear, it was an accidental spin
which sadly brought my elbow to your throat.
And last, I lightly spun in blissful trance,
a waltz, goodnight and thank you for the dance.
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Comments about this poem (A Waltz by Diane Hine )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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