I will not call you my baby, Until I can be your only baby. You maneuver around a subject With the litheness of a danseur. Though I would like to love you, If you would let me love you, Loneliness has never been what drives me. It is love to which I answer. I can see the youthfulness, And much more, for my sleuthfulness. Are you seeking any other than me, Who is eager to applaud as to centre stage you bound? For just a while more, I wait for first frame. It could be so grand to see how you move your frame. I have wondered if your dance would be as spry As the clever way you manage to avoid.
I wrote this in about ten minutes. I finished it just now, at 11:30pm. I hope that this bit of poetry is as exciting as an enthralling ballet.