A poem written some years back, which I had forgotten until I came across it recently.
Entranced, he watched the dance,
As the girl
Did whirl,
Her feet
Kicking up the dust
Of poets, and dancers,
And other chancers,
Who you may meet
And pass, on the street
Without a second glance.
And the age-old dance
Goes on,
But the dust
Of those long gone
Is not disturbed
By a young woman’s dancing feet
K Morris - Poet 
A fantastic poem, Kevin. One of your best.
Thank you, Vivienne. I really appreciate your comment.