A Tango Rose

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Plucked from a basket one morning crisp,

With new hope and off to a bright new trip.


Carried away in hands that were icy,

To a dubious fate that just got dicey. 


Loosely Pinned into her shiny auburn knot,

As the tanguera in the mirror her watchful gaze sought.


Out onto the floor with a dusky yellow light,

A Spanish melody strummed into the the night.


Silent chamber as the symphonies soar,

Feet slink with expertise to the tango lure.


The rose pulled out and caught between his lips, 

Steady there through all the turns, whirls and dips.


Then tucking it into the rim of his sombrero, 

Moving around in the late evening glow.


Performance over, thundering claps all around,

Until at last slipped free and peacefully lay on the cold hard ground.


A fulfilling life thought to be coming to a fleeting end, 

Until picked up by a gentle hand of a sweeper friend.

- San

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