Caricamento in corso...
Robert L. Martin

The Dance

I of little value,
Summoned at my door
By a stately coachman,
Driving a diamond studded carriage,
Pulled by a team of flying horses,
Presented me with
An invitation to the dance.
 
I, flying high and higher,
Arrived at the palace gate and
Entered through the mammoth door.
There she was dressed in red satin
That clung to her voluptuous body.
I floated into her sensuous arms
With my pounding heart
Beating out the rhythm of the mood.
 
As the music played on
And the wine went to my head,
The devil pulled me to her,
Tighter and tighter.
Who am I to resist?
She had me in her grasp
As the music played on and on.

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