She wore a flower in her hair:
A rose, at home in auburn flare.
 
In scarlet dress with silver flair
And vulpine, sequined mask, the heir
 
Of Venus danced, still unaware
That I, the hawk, had stared and stared
 
From window perch with tempered care.
I wondered who and how – from where
 
Had vixen joined the dancing fair,
With me so wholly unaware
 
That such a masquerade could bear
That stellar figure twirling there
 
In moonlit, lanterned plaza square?
By God, I'd pay old Charon's fare
 
Before I saw again such hair.
Was she, perhaps, akin, aware
 
That starlit, rose-bound, auburn hair
Began to dance as she? Ensnared
 
In flowing curls, alive, prepared
To dance the world away.
 
The air fell silent, still; and ere
I scarce believed – could bear –
 
That girl stared back at me, I swear…
That girl with rose in auburn hair.
 
She stared right back at me, aware
Of silent spellbound stare.  I spared
 
Myself a moment's pause and dared
The path my mind had chosen.  Rare
 
It was, I watched us dance and share
In thoughtful reverie of where
 
Our souls entwined.  I saw us there,
The hawk and vixen one – a pair
 
In festive, moonlight-shimm'ring flair
That fate bestowed on plaza square.
 
My two left feet could not compare,
Yet laughter found us unaware
 
Of glance and frown that sought to share
Displeasure in our gay affair.

I wed that girl with auburn hair.
I wed that vixen, goddess, heir,
 
Yet unaware that I had married
Dust.
 
So still I watch.  I watch.  I stare.
At memory that dances there.
 
At reverie in plaza square
That twirls forever, unaware
 
That I, the hawk, eternal, bear
Aloft, alone, her auburn hair –
 
Her stellar, snaring, auburn hair
Whose rose had wilted in despair,
 
Some scarlet-spotted silk affair
That green-eyed Pluto made her wear.
 
Yet still I'd ask he deign to spare
Me one day there – just one day there –
 
Down amidst the dancing fair,
And be as one still unaware
 
Of what that miser had to share.
Of what that bastard thought was fair.
 
Yes.  We'd be as one, still unaware;
In jubilation we would share
 
And know Olympus deemed it fair
We dance the world away.

I’d gladly pay old Charon’s fare
To see again her auburn hair –

With rose in bloom and vulpine stare –
And dance the world away.