The annual skeleton ball brings out lots of revellers, with one notable exception. 5 stanzas of 4 lines each
A SKELETON DANCE
Michele Lourie c 2016
The cemetery at night was drear,
Clouds scudded across the moon,
The branches of trees seemed to swing and sway
To the cry of a crazy loon.
We rose up from our cold, hard graves
In unison we came
To dance at the Annual Skeleton Ball,
A party of underworld fame.
We clicked and clattered in jerky lines
And jostled in minuets,
In silence we shuffled on jittery feet
To form the ‘hoe down’ sets.
After twirling between the dark headstones
I stepped off to the side
Where lying alone in a deep, deep hole
Some white bones I now spied.
I challenged him by rattling my arms
“Rise up, to join us is vital!”
The skeleton cried “I hate to dance,
Because I am – BONE IDLE”