Absorbed in the delicate three beat rhythm
While lost in her eloquent dance,
She gracefully whirled from one spot to the next
Never planning her steps in advance.

Her feeling quite clear
As the delicious euphoria warmed her
She held the dance quite dear;
For a while it seemed to calm her.

Over her partner’s protest
Who struggled to effortlessly progress,
She fleetingly held it close to her breast
In her dance with a beat of three.

Gleefully unable to stop
She did not seem to understand
Much like an hourglass turned on its top,
There’d be a shortage of sand.

She felt the crises and the guilt
Yet she pushed the alarm away;
Not wanting this day to wilt
For she still had next and thereafter day.

Above all she loved the thrill
How could there be any fault?
It was her will
To love her favorite dance: the procrastinator’s waltz.