The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation, drug
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration
Stiff as wire, rubella her lungs on fire,
With just the briefest pause —
The flooding through her memory,
The echoes of old applause.
She limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door…
it is always sad when we’ve lost a dancer.
(with a nod to neil peart)