Chances

thought she was a dancer
a mystical kind of prancer
the apple of her daddy’s eye
spinning rainbows out of sunsets
a sorceress casting her nets
never gives a reason why
her deeds they seem so caring
underneath those clothes she’s wearing
the truth is you’ll be always shun
turn her back and fade away
come back to you on a different day
the point of no return

the deed is done

Steve Boddey June 2009