Page 19 - ContrastFall1987-1988

Mnemosyne dances along the river's edge
spritely, spritely

Springtimes of yesterdays perfume the meadows
Pushed along by a summery breeze
like a ballet

Blonde hair tossed like there's no tomorrow.

Slippers tossed aside
She splashes the frigid water with her toes

As the sun seets on the meadow
Mnemosyne knows the day is dying

and the ballet grows solemn
Age sets into her suppleness

is she an old woman?

Night comes down on the river
the dance is over

And the once ballet-goddess sits
dangling her toes
in the waters of Lethe.

__Melissa Engle