The muscular twist of fibre
Deep in dusty mud
The hairy whiskers
And pricking cord
The very fast passage
Through moist grave
Says alot about it
The tree stands tall
So elegant in stance
And flawless in gait
The wind flirts with it
With each tiptoe
On its stiletto
The romance goes on
But years to come
The ankle ache
In flawless twist
Of her waist
To the rhythm
Of her love
But her aging feet
Knows no pain
The wind comes again
For a love play
But at first thrust
His love falls
In his arm
Like western Ballet
But the wind
Seeks no bride
To take home
For he only
Seeks to dance
So he leaves
Behind a fallen Lover
Who bewails her trust
For Casanova
For she fell
With no intent to rise.
