The dancer stares at me from beyond his sight.
I am worthless and in flight.
The dust to dark has returned-
my aunt is still dead in her urn.
The tables and chairs are still on the stairs,
and the woman in white is about to take flight.
Here is the worthless coin at the fair,
and I hope to go out with my lass tonight.
The dancer moves with the grace of a lamb,
and shadows the floor with her body.
The cook has sent out another ham,
and the maid is scurrying in the lobby.