(This is a Minute Poem written in strict iambic meter)
Five fingers guide me to the floor
I smile no more
I want to flee
"Just dance with me."
In all the world I must believe
And do perceive
Waits for my hand.
Someone with whom my fate will lock
And mock me not
For here I am
With midget Sam.
September 11, 2016
Copyright © Reta Pruitt | Year Posted 2016
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment