The Dance

by Chantal

We dance for one another,
Gloves and masks and painted faces,
Through an endless rhythm of chattered silence
In this vacant room.
How familiar are these steps I weave,
Strange then your face seems so unknown to me.
Gowns and fans blur, cheap in their splendour
And you wear my tears around your neck.
To catch the secrets of your eye,
Would I trade a thousand of your empty dances.
Why get drunk on honeyed wine
When we can share the sweetness of a whispered truth?
Before this night is over
Let me touch the reality of your dreams.
My feet are tired,
You have my hand,
Lead me in a different dance.
Chantal Powell 2008