My Last Love

That's my lady-friend on the floor,
Looking at us now or not?
And she's a wonder, I never had
Until by accident, she made me her man.

Will you sit, watch with me? I said,
Her way by nature, makes her hard read
By you, someone who loves her less.
That depth and passion of the dance,
But only to me turns and silently asks
The question lying in your own glance;
"Of how such a dance there came to be.
And how that dance there even came to me?"

And perhaps you will deny it is my doing?
I dare not boast, though secretly I wish
That her fire stems from our happiness.
But the vivacity dwelling is her own
That swells and grows in lustful words.
Or was already, always there from birth
To be called and make us both her fools!

Though that might your curiosity finally satisfy
It won't stop the ceaseless others to enquire;
Whether that fire is mine to tame and last.
Or be the only instant my heart sorrowfully admits
That my last love will not go by her name,
Nor may she live the life she has lead.
But she will have that fire that shouldn't be,
And she my friend... will forever dance for me!