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I wrote this about 10 years ago. I’m usually a free-form poet. When I finish a free form poem, I feel drained after. Just plain wiped, like a person that’s been walking too long. But when I challenge myself to follow a structure, I feel a different kind of exhausted after. Like getting to the top of a hill. Maybe it’s the accomplishment of tackling something I’m not as familiar with, whereas the free form is more of a meditative endurance test.

Or I could just be making it all up in my head. 😀

He challenged me- the look he gave was steel.
It warned of strength and power in his hand;
And in that look the pit of me could feel
that everything was going as he planned.
And if I followed through on his ideal
the man would win- the lady would be damned.
The look was calculated to enhance
my insecurities before we’d dance.

He didn’t think his look would serve a dare
He automatically thought me weak.
So I looked back, a full and cutting glare;
This lady isn’t made of coy and meek!
It stopped him in his tracks- he turned to stare
but I would not provide him time to speak.
I push his look away with one small glance
And then in earnest we began to dance.