I was no tiny dancer.
Maybe, once,
before you and me.
Maybe I pointed my toes and held my head high.
But I forgot how to pirouette and jete.

I know you thought you held me up.
I know you thought you fixed me.
But, my little partner,
you never stood a chance.
I'm sorry, my darling.
I tripped into your arms and you did all you could.
You held me crying and watched me dress.

I loved the lilies.
Even though they never came,
I loved the lilies.

I'm so sorry, Tom,
that when I tripped, I knocked you down.
I'm sorry I chened into someone else's arms
to learn how to dance again.

I hope someday you find a partner.
I hope she loves your lilies.
I hope she loves your danse russe.