Your Dance. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

You loved to dance in the evening
when everyone had gone to bed.
While they were fast in slumbers
you were pirouetting instead.

Your limbs so soft and tender,
each lift was strong and high.
Your dainty spin and sauter
was beautiful to the eye.

Swanlike in every way,
your long neck stretched so tall.
Your delicate fingers
rised to the occasion,
as you danced out to the hall.

Your dance was so perfect,
and your enjoyment could be seen,
as you danced under the lamplights and stars,
you were a lovely dream.


Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .