As My Pen Danced
I waited, dressed to kill
in red,
and in love
both, of which
I could have been coaxed out of
You have turned a pale shade of white,
my Valentine
Al Green sang to me,
as my pen danced as your substitute
we danced all night long,
stationary, our dance floor.
As we whirled to the emotions
of words' sounds; hand in hand,
we went round and round
and round
No one else in the room
most of all, not you
as my ink turned
from red to blue
Copyright © Regina Branham | Year Posted 2009
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