There's a tiny, dancer
in my mind,
but she never really,
has much to say.
She reminds me,
of the Danse Russe,
she chases my thoughts away.
She dances upon her flower,
whispering,
"Come with me,
and I'll show you,
it's all ok"
She sings her melody,
upon her flower,
and says,
the sweetest things.
She's still a tiny, dancer,
in my mind,
and she never has,
to much to say.
She reminds me,
of the Danse Russe,
please,
chase my thoughts away.
Author notes
well I got the inspiration for this poem by listening to a song over and over called Danse Russe by Hurt. Hope you like it.
Written June 21st, 2006
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Comments
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Alluring poem, mystic in nature, whispers with a pantomime of dance, soothing and lyrical write.
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