She spun by me in swirling skirts,
Her hair swung loose and long;
The air breathed music—how my heartstrings
Tingled with our song!

But nary a glance she dropped for me,
Nor passed my palm a note
With words regretful or sincere.
With nothing, she me smote.

Her smiles spilled on other folks,
Her words in other ears.
What whispers will she pass along
When I have disappeared?

Life dances—so she spins—it sweeps
Her on—I know not where.
I dance my own way, not still tangled
In this love, her hair.

Alena Casey is a wife, mother, and writer from Indiana. She is an avid reader, writer, and student of literature and poetry, and sometimes blogs about it at strivingafterink.wordpress.com.