Mathmatic Ballet

Remind me how I used to make,
The numbers dance about the page,
Choreographing every step,
Every slide,
Every inverted sashay.

And how they would perform,
My numbers would,
Upon a bleach white stage,
In lines,
Thirty-four to be exact,
Twirling and twisting,
Inverting and switching.

And like a Shakespearian tragedy,
(which was sometimes open when I wrote the dance)
They would kill each other off,
One by one,
Step by step,
Until only a few remain.

Sometimes it took only one act,
And sometimes two,
Depending on when I felt,
The finale had come.

And oh the beauty,
With which my numbers danced.
It is sad that I have forgotten,
Every step,
Every slide,
Every inverted sashay,
After working year long,
To make the numbers dance.

They left me you see,
The numbers willing to my hand,
To join some trifle sideshow circus,
Nothing compared to the stage they once performed,
While I enjoyed the sun,
And no longer made them dance.

Now you call on me once more,
To make my magic numbers dance,
But choreography is clumsy,
Numbers bump,
Variables clash,
And sometimes they slip through one another,
Like ghosts.

It does not please you anymore,
Like it once did,
My shows of mathematical footwork.

So I ask,
As a master good and true,
Teach me again,
Every step,
Every slide,
Every inverted sashay,
So that I may once again,
Perform for you,
The numeric ballets,
I once wrote,
For your eyes alone,
My teacher.

I beg of you,
Teach.