The Dancer

An eerie night had set on his road,
The distance walked had worn iron shoes.
The mind that carried his despair’s load,
Was weary of circumstances and their noose.

And then she addressed him with a jingle
Of her anklet that so oft hath spoken her words.
Her tapping feat that the glass floor tingled,
Ordered his defenses to drop their swords.

His eyes now a puppet to her slender waist,
Gyrating about in a musical trance,
Like a jasmine creeper so dear and chaste,
When the breeze as a lyre, caused her dance.

And then her fingers played their scheme,
As they playfully covered her bashful face,
Like amidst the clouds that hid the moon’s gleam,
He saw her smile, yet lost it in a daze.

The jingle had merged with the drummer’s game,
Her frame now swaying in blissful disdain,
Her outspread hands as if calling his name,

She danced her way to her quarter’s lane.