Rictameter poetry, The dance.
Face all aglow
Grasp the splendor of love
Feel the sweet warmth of tenderness
Dancing in perfect rhythmic harmony
Gliding smoothly across the floor
Twirling, hand held lightly
More by this Author
My muse is constantly bugging me to take her south to lay in the sun on sandy beaches in Florida. Maybe I will. The election blues have got to go!
I was watching the sunset on a drab, gloomy day, missing my hummingbird's who had already flown South, and watching my squirrel, Squiggley store pecans for the winter when my muse took flight.
I've been somewhat afraid to travel due to the terrorist attacks throughout the world, but my psyche decided to speak up and make me rethink about living again.