The Beat of my Drum

She stared at the dirt
On the hem of her skirt
Wondering how it got there
Not knowing what from where
As she stood stock still
Holding her own breath until

The wind forced her to move
As if trying to prove
To her that she was alive
And that she shouldn’t deprive
Herself of her last chance
To shout out and dance

So dance all night she did
Until the moon and stars bid
Farewell to her street
Knowing well that retreat
Was all but critical to
Maintaining their sanity, too

For they surely did not
Want to partake of the lot
That the young girl was dealt
Because they indeed felt
She had no inhibition
After the night’s exhibition

She must be crazy then, right,
Not putting up a fight
When the wind forced her to feel
A blast that seemed all too real?
Yet it gave her the power
To cast about and devour

Everything that was in sight
And all that hid from the light
Though the sky thought it wrong
That she had lived all night long
And not just stared at the dirt
On the hem of her skirt

- March 27, 2008