Day Fifty-eight

Today's words:

Dance

Violin

Wolf

Cat

Diary

Orange

It's like an awkward dance,

Done to an out-of-tune violin,

Or a wolf

Set upon by a cat.

What's written in this diary,

In orange

Ink, makes no sense. In orange

Skirts I dance

To a tune in the diary

Of my mind. Meanwhile, on the violin,

It's hey diddle diddle, the cat

And the fiddle. But there's no cow, only a wolf.

A ravening wolf

Come to prey on the orange

Cat.

But still I dance

To the music of the violin

And tell secrets to my diary.

It's what's in that diary

That the wolf

Is really after. You put down the violin

And pour yourself a glass of orange

Juice as I go to dance

With the cat.

I've written about that cat

In my diary

But not about the dance

I did with the wolf.

Its eyes were orange

And the violin

Was out of tune. I used to take violin

Lessons. My cat

Would howl when I practiced. I wrote in my orange-

Covered diary

That I'd rather wrestle with a wolf

Than have to dance

To someone elses's violin. Where is that diary

Now? Who knows? But I know the cat and the wolf

With orange eyes can dance.