Donna

Donna in her party dress
Shimmering darkness
In the refrigerator light
She tips her glass above the sink
Takes a long slow drink
Of air
And the world spins round
Nothing lost, nothing found
Donna in her diamond shoes
The tiny straps undo
Their tethering
Toes on the landing in her stocking wings
She lifts off into
A sudden downpour
And the world spins round
Nothing lost, nothing found
Donna switches off the lights
Whispers goodnight
To every sleepy room
Her silver silhouette, a fallen feathered dress
Like a birds nest
Around her ankles
And the world spins round
Nothing lost, nothing found
Nothing lost, nothing found