He Handed Her a Rose

A Flamenca

He handed her a rose

And asked her for this dance

A stylish stranger,

This lone moment of chance.

She looked askance, a glance

Told her disapproval.

Not sure what then to do

He would walk away,

Not one to break the rule,

Leave when the dance was spent.

A gallant gentleman

He who knew his place

With no pretense

High virtues valued more

Of elegance and grace.

He turned to bid farewell

Her arm then quickly fell

To extend her hand,

The gesture her consent,

They entered in the dance.

The young men would look on

And wonder what was meant

When he took her hand,

Aware of her assent,

A dance most eloquent.

For now they would gather

And learn from the master

Not guile or pretense

But grace and elegance

Have their proper chance to

Gain her hand in the dance.

For another flamenca poem, check out: She Dances Like Thunder

Copyright © 2021, Robert G. Metivier

Thank you for taking the time to read!

Originally published on Medium on September 8, 2021

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