A Dancer from Cathay

In the dimly lit pub
she dances barefoot
the bells on her ankles

She says she comes
from the far-flung East
in that smooth, rolling tongue
of the southern hills

Yet the men pretend
not to know

And the barkeep’s daughter —

She smiles dreamily
as she washes
their empty steins

Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at https://redgladiola.wordpress.com

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