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.
Diane Hine's Other Poems
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