Dawn

I could be struck blind at noon, but I will

Have seen you teach music itself to dance

And all of movement's secret dreams fulfill

Somehow, my absurd life gave me the chance

To watch the sun gaze at you with envy

While the tea sang your praises

And the eggs scrambled from the pan to see

Me hastily weave a net of phrases

Strong enough to catch your spinning glory

Before the cremation of the toast could

Prevent you from finishing your story

Rhythmically told by pretty feet to wood

The fruit derives its sweetness from your smile

Your pirouettes a blind man could beguile