© 04-22-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
Elayne will dance; she holds a long white rope,
above our heads - in air aloneness spreads,
cold rain pours on damp ground - the circus' dead,
remote's the emptiness - devoid the scope.
Elayne will dance! High on the ropes upheld;
through acrobatics, apt, her act perfects,
she lifts to skies, her bold routine projects
the tears of wind that blows will be withheld.
Inside the air, ropes thrum upon the mast,
we both had lived ten years before this sound
we laughed there hung, in void, above the ground
the rags now wave to gallivant miscast.
Inside the winds she posed; admired Elayne
will dance; the ropes keep thrumming on the mast;
will hang in void; beguiled, unearthly trust,
spectators watch Elayne's hung wraith in strain.
"Address my love when nimbus rain on Earth
I'll dance with you in fields of heather,
because your soul beholds my eyes forever
and stars are embers of a longing hearth."
A skyward streamlet to expend in space,
admired Elayne departs in splendid glow;
rags wave, the thin mistle kisses my brow ,
- she followed the drops paths to upwards trace.