I wrote another dancer for the play,
To tussle and spit full a flame,
To dash between a zig and zag,
An art in motion given jazz,
A little funk and breath to call a smile,
An art I put in motion for a while.

Family scramble,
Flying down on a mumbling Dad,
And the duvet is thrown,
A tumble bumble of words,
And a wittering weave is sewn,
The window blown -
Right open, see the heat is on high,
And the scramble is now.
*May I have the covers back?*