The Little Toe Dancer

Down a little lane
So beautifully shaded
There I met the queen
Of all little maidens.

Her hair was light
And eyes sky-blue,
She was out of the garden
Of beauties that’s true.

She’d hold her little dress
And dance to the breeze;
She would do it with grace
And musical ease.

On the tips of her toes
She’d go around like a top,
With such dancing, entrancing,
I thought she’d ne’er stop.

Then she’d bow
And give a sweet little smile,
Pulling her finger
Like a real little child.

But who only knows
Whom this maiden can be,
She’s my secret inspirer,
And the world to me.

Sometimes when I write
She stands by my side,
If my poem’s of the ocean
She rides on the tide.

Now little one
My thoughts are dim,
But with your guidance
I worked with vim.

And now I must go,
But my thoughts are of you.
We’ll meet here next Sunday
In the lane at two.