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.

By Minstrel

Loves writing...

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