ANNA'S LAST WALTZ

She danced in the air,

a mote in the gaslight

soft 

     and fragile,

her moment over 

too soon.

When she thought

of him

It was with a longing

for moments lost,

For a dance never

fully engaged in.

Raw silk

chafed at her neck,

this would be her last waltz.

One danced alone.

Her feet 

never touching the
cold, grey
cement  floor

Once the chair

was kicked aside

And all of her sadness

evaporated,

A mote in the gaslight.