Poetry: Moonlit Ballroom

Sitting alone
I watch
the colours swirl around the room.
I wait.

The clock ticks his piercing madness
through the moonlight.
I listen.

The giggles of the lusty dancers
stepping gracefully before me
in and out of rhythm.
The room twists and turns around them.
Lightening cracks above me
falling wistfully on wooden forms,
Lovers play their whimsical games
in the silent abstractions
between the sharp-edged beats.

Desire hangs all about me,
blanketing me in humid rapture,
I am captivated
in the tongue twister.

Awakened by the faint tickle
of warmth whispered into my ear,
A perfectly placed proposal
of “May I have this dance?”
Charmed to my tranquil feet
by a sideways boyish grin;
eyes that shimmer inside me,
searching silently for my soul.
His hand reaches for my heartbeat
in the magic of this moonlit trance,
I place it gently in his palm,
being pulled into the current
of this room’s magnetic tide.
He pulls my gaze into his own.
The clock sings his midnight song.
We dance