Invite to Dance
A woman gets out to play
making friend or family plans,
enriches those she greets
with worker-bee fond hands.
Its not a lot this life she leads --
not some ticket draw: win or lose.
Prick her and yes, she bleeds.
In light or dark; stars will ever choose.
Shallow mercies place her
by the cradle near the bed.
Commercials see her snacking
every day not having wed.
Tenderness caresses slight
movements of her feet.
Moon and sun suspend
emotions incomplete.
A man may never enter
where bedlam pays a call.
But daily; woman, wife or mother,
takes up singly every fall.
Joys that are jumped
are remembered as life's best.
Sorrows take to flowers
until petals themselves taste the test.
Forgetting is no virtue
nor is wailing at what's past
Courage wastes no time
trusting full sail to the mast.
-- tim
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