The Dance of Mei Yuan

Of hair so raven black, her pale skin did shine,

Succulent lips the colour of darkest wine.

With flamingo like garnments, cutting  damp air,

Fall like magical clouds of a land not there.

A jingle of soft bells, the touch of her smile,

Jasmine decends like rain, through humid nights glow.

Hypnotizing and weaving among the dance you bestow.

Er Hu's plucked with passion do sing so sweetly in rhyme.

And takes me to far 'n beyond for a nickle at a time.

The music now clicks to a slovenly decend,

And with a final click of the melody, the show now ends.

But Mei Yuan will dance, when I play her again.