02 August 2009

Call The Tune


He sang the words which
didn’t rhyme and heard in
rhythmic beat the snap
of feet a-tapping time

The feet weren’t his that
rhythm called to march, he
stood alone on stolid feet
dischordantly unmasked

In sympathy she took his
hand, you’ll never dance
the way they do, so stand
and call the tune for me
© 16 June 2009, I. D. Carswell