Last Danced Poem by Tess Rockenstire

The ambiance of the night air tells romance.
Like a tempest I in my attire,
Swaying in my girdle,
Dressed in evening gown.

Radiant as the stars at night,
Eyes toward my existence,
I am flowing in a plum dress.
Sweet and secret glances of a boy
Trapped in the evening light.

Once I was a nymph,
While young boys were on parade,
Under my mama’s avocado tree,
Boys waited to catch a glimpse of me,
I remember a boy named Edgar.

The boy and I danced the night away.
He kissed my hand,
Which soothes my fear away.
Like a rain dropped his tears fail,
When I bid him farewell,
That night was our last dance.