She´s mad they said & all because she
so loved to dance,
She swayed over wild oceans, to Spain,
Holland & old France,
She´s mad they said, but she just danced
past their cruel jibes,
She waltzed down corridors of time, across
pages of old scribes.
She´s mad they said, as she danced across the
sky with lonely birds,
She danced with sun´s rays & rivulets
of streams, ignoring cruel words,
She´s mad they said, as she slow danced
with beams of the opal moon,
She let her hair down with salted waves, at
midnight in the month of June.
She´s
mad they said, as she danced in autumn, with the old golden leaves,
She teased & tantalized the filigreed
tops, of turning copper-topped trees,
She´s mad they said, as a banshee, she
bowed, twirled & swirlingly flurried,
She took her time, saying to the world, “Seasons
can never ever be hurried”.
She´s mad they said, as the winter´s silvered
gown turned her wary step,
She danced through all the cold rivers &
seas, never losing her vim & pep,
She is never still & at peace with the world,
she´s totally mad, they said,
“Mad? Not I, she said, “It´s just your imagination,
it´s all within your head”.
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