The Dancer

It’s late at night and all is quiet
The lights are low and dim
I grab the closest cotton towel
And balance on my limb

I fix my gaze upon the wall
And keep my breathing calm
My placement is almost done
As I carefully curl my arm

The timing has to be just right
From head to tippy toe
Otherwise my pirouette
Will turn out rather slow

I fling my hand out to the right
Like hailing down a cab
Unfortunately I lose my balance
My legs splayed like a crab

Perhaps a smaller kitchen cloth
Will give me a better chance
To win at this nightly ritual
That resembles a Morris dance

Neighbours peek from behind their blinds
As I skip and arabesque
Wearing only underwear
It all looks rather burlesque

My wife has had enough of me
Each night she rolls her eyes
“Switch off the light and come to bed
Stop swatting those stupid flies”