AT THE VALENTINE DANCE
Where did you go, little girl,
in this old woman’s face?
Where did time lead with its roads?
You are so thin and frail.
Like a reed.
Like a flower touched by frost.
Where is your seed unfolding?
Where is spring hidden?
Where is the dawn of final summer?
You clap your hands to the music
of the dance.
Your face is lined like an etching.
Dancing, I reached to your hand,
woman so small, so shy.
Who will dance with me
her eyes asking?
And I told her with my own,
I want this dance with a girl dancing,
most beautiful, to dance with me.