Dancing with a Faun in the Street

Missteps are many as the dance begins,

No coins are in my pocket, but I can dance along.

Fortune rarely favors me, the stones are sharp directly underfoot.

I wonder how much longer the dance can last.

I know the tune, and it’s not overlong.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And yet, I whirl and enjoy the swirl of color, tone, and movement.

The faun’s recorder tweets and croons a beautiful refrain.

I step and sway and feel okay as my old heart thumps along.

I will enjoy it while it lasts even though the time has quickly passed,

And, hopefully, I will still be dancing right up until the end.