Across the ballroom,
          She patiently waits for him
                      To meet her soft gaze—
An invitation
          For him to draw near to her.
                      He offers his hand,
And she accepts it
          And their fingers interlace—
                      A lingering touch
Of a nature shared
          Not by mere acquaintances.
                      She follows his lead
With a timid grace.
          Her skirts barely touch the floor.
                      In her partner’s arms,
She was a paintbrush—
          Each step and twirl was a stroke
                      Upon the canvas
Of creamy marble,
          Showered in silver starlight.
                      When the music ceased
Before she could speak,
          The dawn’s amber glow broke through,
                      And he slipped away
From her able hands.
          The delicate fantasy
                      Vanished forever
Into the darkness.
          It would have lived if only                                                                    
                      She'd asked him to stay.