Last Dance
Laughing, she danced across the moonlit bridge
with gleeful leaps and crazy pirouettes,
her hair blown loose and tangled by her flight.
He caught a trailing sleeve, but she tore free
and spun away. The forest crowded close.
Cursing, he pushed the bramble hedge aside,
and heard her singing, frenzied, somewhere near;
a song as thin and frantic as a scream.
And through the thinning branches at the brink
he saw her spiral down into the dark,
her arms arched upward, graceful as a ghost.