the bouquet of love soured, on your departure day
the coldest ever eyes were present, on your departure day

the bloom of spring's glory, lost its divine array
streaming tears flowed, sorrowful twas the day

withered, spent, finished, were the petals of May
joy's bliss in your arm's, faded into greyest shade of day

our union diminished in the pollen cup, most awful was the display
all tender feelings vanished, never could it be a lovely day

a sad wind blows on our floral tomb, sweet love lies in decay
nothing but nothing remains, what a melancholy day

Lean your head
On my
Bare
Hip
And taste
Sweet,
Pure
Freedom.

Let these
empty
sheets
Cover this
naked
Body
Of mine
With relief.

Let my ankle
Feel
The pain
Of your
Passionate
Kiss,
As we both know
It is our last.

Close your eyes,
Love,
As you did mine
Once,
So you won't see
My shadowed
Steps
Walking away.

Take your farewell
And cover it
With clothing,
But it will still be
Too much
For our
One hour
Love story.

Step by step,
With a gorgeous plié,
Kick some pep
Into a battement jeté.

A toy brought to life
During a winter dream,
Wining a mice fight,
Becoming king and queen.

Graceful and white,
Perfection is seized,
A swan's flight,
Applause from the pleased.

All these to treasure,
To hope for, but first
Have the right measures
And break the weight curse.

Do not eat much
And practice all day,
Have the right touch,
Get that perfect cambré.

Pointe for pain
And chukkers for luck,
Just hide those blood stains
And redefine pluck

When all the joints hurt
And toes can't be touched,
When all one has heard
Is Tchaikovsky's crutch...

So proceed and endure,
Feel pain and relief,
Prokofiev's pitch contour
To be ones only belief.

Let all this be forgotten
When the curtains rise
And show all this works gotten
Perfection for a prize.