SHE DANCES

She dances on silver moon light

Like some raven who soars throughout the beauty of the midnight hour

Her long flowing red dress spins with such gracefulness

That even the hardest of hearts stop and gaze upon her

Beauty of some kind of rare red and luscious flower.

No man dares touch her, though for she belongs to no one

This flower can only be free

Never to be owned by no man to tie her down

She is too delicate for even the faintest breeze to touch

She is no such flower that thrives under the sun to be won.

For what she dances to no one will know

For what she dances for not a glimpse of notification shows

For she is free from answers, questions, and the world

She just continues to spin, twirl, and dance her days and nights away

Not a tear of heart break grips her from her dance of life

For she needs not any heart ache to help her grow.

But, alas, she does dance for a reason

She does belong to a person

This I do know with all my loving heart

For she belongs to me and I belong to her as well

For our love grows all the flowers of love

Season to season.

 

 

Reviews

[Bekah B]

Wonderfully developed metaphor. It's got a really pretty flow. Nice job.