Tambourine Poem by Jeff Siegel

Her music is soft, sometimes aloof
Like rain upon an old tin roof.
With honey brown skin, soft and so sheen,
And eyes that flash like cut citrine.

Her virtures are many,
Her flaws obscene.
But all is neglected
When she plays tambourine.

She captured my will in laughter and dance.
Then flittered away at romantic advance.
An enigmatic ghost I could not have forseen,
But oh so real when she plays tambourine.

The bangles that clash
With each strike of her hand,
Could rival the jangle
Of any brass band.
And ribbons that trailed
Like spirits unclean,
Such was her troupe
When she played tambourine.

And all that would try
And all that would fail,
To capture her heart
To little avail,
Would lay drunk and shattered
Like a clay figurine.
Their hopes asunder
When she plays tambourine.

So loose not a wink
Should her smile fall your way,
And shed not a tear
Should your vow seem cliche.

For even Bacchus,
God of all things sanguine,
Would drink in approval
When she plays tambourine.