She could not turn off my light.
Amongst my fallen foe I was bright.
Even though she did try
Tempting with seduction, left alone to cry
Twice against my brow touched her lips.
Returning crimson from their trips.
How many times did I loook into sun-forgotten eyes?
Ten times at least they did surprise.
But, the stones upon the road do not know
The times I saw them before she struck a blow.
This is not a musical with notes of pride.
She could have surfed on my blood filled tide.
There was nothing she did not do.
Danced with three feet instead of two.
But if she danced with all left feet
Did I with all right ones keep the beat?
Alas, the battle has come to an end.
Yet, I still have wounds to attend.
by Jeff Short