A fleeting connection.

A middle-aged poet’s introspection.

You danced by

And I

Saw youth

And your love of art,

And felt an answering spark

In my poet’s heart.

There is truth

Of a kind

For you to find

Should you truly look

Behind my book.

You will dance away

And, at some future day

May remember a middle-aged poet

Who gave to you

Something of what is true.