Did the dance of moments muster
More than we had thought to think
Did its darling daybreak-luster
Soon surrender newborn pink?
Did the dance of moments murmur
Like a far-off sleepy brook?
Did it scatter bits of summer
Like loose pages of a book?
Did the dance of moments mimic
Something familiar yet strange?
Did it stun with suave chimeric
Did the dance of moments matter?
When its winsome wending wanes
Like a brook bled dry of chatter
As the last of moments drains...
Tell me, in this dance of moments
What did we live for and why?
For, my dear, we are more than
Marionettes strung from the sky
© Janet Martin