THE WEATHER IS MAD, THEY SAID:

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”.