I’m no spring chicken
In the midst of a gaggle
Of middle aged birds
Giggle, whisper, babble
Music swirls around me
Like the swizzle in my drink
Rhythmic beat so pulsing - loud
I simply can not think
You touch my hand, heroically
asking me to dance
As you lead me to the floor
clucking hens look on, askance
Whirling in the storm of sound
Spellbound by reviving motion
My bloom reclaimed; sparkle found
Ecstatic thrill – sparks emotion
Tomorrow’s reality will dawn
But tonight I sway; a gliding blur
Heart-beats tempo as time moves on
Old age, tonight - I will defer
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