I used to spend hours
Dancing.

Sometimes
In the attic
Where no one could see.

I danced for Butch.
A shy young man
Who went to Viet Nam.
He wanted to marry me.

I dreamed of making him smile.

Sometimes
I would get up early
When fog still covered the meadow
The only sound
The cow bells
The gentle lowing.

I danced in the fog
Pointing my toes
At the sky.
Graceful as a butterfly
I dipped and swayed
With the buttercups and gentians.
Twirling until
Dizzy
I would collapse
In the dewy wet grass
With the Queen Anne's Lace
Making a canopy above me.

I sent Butch cookies.
I sent him letters.
I even sent him a ballet slipper once.
But I could not send him
The love he wanted.
He wrote
That he carried my photo
Next to his heart.

He was one of the unlucky ones.
He didn't come home.
I have been haunted
By the vision of him
The smiling blue eyes
The carrot hair
Me, next to his heart
The blood stained slipper.