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THIS WEEK'S POEM August 31st l998
 

THE DANCING QUEENS

 
One day I will go to the great Dance City in the sky
Dancing here below beautiful women fill my eye
One day too, alas, they'll be old and grey or dead and gone
I'll not let it pass till I write how they so lively shone
Beyond the Mass I did observe, I don't know what it means
Each bonnie lass who danced with verve, ethereal Dancing Queens
Elizabeth has a lovely face with her languorous eyes
Her yellow hair streams out of place like a glittering prize
She loves to learn the dancer's part, she speaks with Scottish brogue
I know she dances with her heart although she looks in vogue
Estelle, what can I say that's not been said already
So serious in her way with poise and rhythm steady
But when she moves in free expression, black hair floating free
Its more like sensuous confession of vitality
Now Laura is a pretty woman though she looks a child
I guess when she gets really going she can be quite wild
Her dancing is quite natural, she's totally absorbed
But will she think so lateral once painting fate has daubed?
Susannah's dance is full of grace, she really is a beauty
She also has a pleasant voice and always does her duty
Corn coloured is her hair, I think her eyes are blue
She has that classic English face that always looks so true
Jane's soft and tall with soulful eyes, a smile around her lips
A woman of the Northern skies from head to finger tips
When she's not here she drives quite hard to really take the biscuit
But she's no fear, relaxed her guard, for dance she'll always risk it
Lara is a platinum blonde with a perfect figure
Her ballet training is the wand that gives her dancing vigour
By day she's there to take great care of kids whom fate may lash
But you should see her when carefree and dancing with panache
Cal moves with calm and tall is she, wondering on her life
Her hands with delicate tracery shut out the noise and strife
She's always pleased so when time steals she smiles at inner thought
And so her dancing now reveals the kingdoms she has sought
In her black gown Clare looks the part of a mystic guide
Dancing is for her wild heart what makes her satisfied
She teaches what we need to know entranced are we by her halo
And leads us there without cajole, for she is dancing with her soul
Within this life we move in dream
Seldom are things as they seem
But I recall those brilliant scenes
The nights I met the Dancing Queens

M H