A Minuet Poem by cheryl davis miller

This style of poem, brings to mind,
a minuet.
Where Lord and Lady, you will find,
do pirouette.
In stately fashion, side by side.
Across the dance floor, see them glide.
A dance adorned by matchless set,
a minuet.

The opposite, you'd think us blind,
that's you and I.
All hands and feet, to toes unkind,
each time we try.
There is no grace, no work of art,
it seems to drive us, more apart.
The dance I've longed for since we met,
a minuet.