The Dance

We exchange no words
shed no glances
we only know
the music starts
once enthralled in our dance
we only think of the steps
a small clink of metal
as two maces meet
only a few moments before
an angel appears
the rhthym guides our moves
the tune forms a sweet surrender
a sapphire enters the midst
softening our dancefloor
our dance lives on
as Crimson Tears fall
a tangle of electric blue
and black
form a lacy pattern on the floor
graceful movements
flowing stances
a harmonic tale
of two paths crossed
a woven blanket
of Cascade
and Ebony sugar
danced until warm rays stream
forgotten until
Crimson Tears fall again

by Alicya Trevor

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