Twirling Woman

He liked to see a woman twirl.

Not just when dancing

Enraptured by music or beat,

But in moments of excitement

When burdens disappear

And she’s lighter on her feet.

Twirling women are a rarity

More likely to see her pull a drag from a cigarette

Or chug confidence from a bottle of Corona.

For twirling women have temerity,

From others they feel no threat

It’s just a part of their persona.

Twirling is cheerful – at any age or size.

Twirling brings about laughter

And warms even icy eyes.

He knew she was a twirler

He felt it in his bones.

Imagined when she spun about

She’d crinkle up her nose.

He could see her twirls at dawn or dusk

And all points in between.

And knew she wasn’t a shy twirler

Could give a damn if she were seen.

He saw her twirl in any attire

The sartorial choice was hers.

And he just knew that her smile grew

When she spun like a straw that stirs

On winter streets with footprints in the snow

Or rainy nights, when howling winds would blow.

In summer sun, on sand or waves

Or against autumns’ fallen leafs and shortened days

Her twirls, self-made,

Never sold or bought

And he knew if he were the one to make her twirl

He would never be forgot.