The Lady.

The lady who once was,

Still Is,

She will be.

It Is beyond fathom the love,

The elegance.

The glory.

But greater than her is my own maternal grandmother.



A Dance Which Is Natural.

A dance which Is natural,

Has seeked some time,

Some love,

Some help from the Lord to be his and not thine.

The dance is true,

For it likes to be back home,

As It Is too late too jump again,

In time unknown.

Hope he listens with his might,

As I love him,

Let him fight.

A dance which can stopped has to be stopped,

For anything unnatural is timid,

Loathsome and hypocritical.