Her eyes dance for her now

And her smile too…that’s for sure.

She gestures just so and her leather

Gloved hand is there…brown leather

I know.

At a bustling crossway on the Mag Mile

As the stiff breeze blows in the Windy City

For sure.

Her elegant right limb outstretched, but not

Desperately so.

The dainty strong hand sags properly inward

And down from…

The Brooklyn Dancer.

Why this Prairie Boy be so humbled?

I do not know…Is it her elegance?

Her charm?

So proper is she…yet the goodness, kindness,

Humanness and zest shines through…and through

The Brooklyn Dancer.

On my back in my youth in the lush bluegrass

I surely saw her eyes twinkling in the sky

On a moonlit night.

Was it a dream? And is it still?

No…she was there…I saw her dancing and

Beautiful before me

And then she was gone and I parted too from…

The Brooklyn Dancer