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The Dance

A first encounter, but not to be the last.
The music begins.
The room now alive with motion.
Colored gowns and dark suits,
twirling, swaying, rhythmic.

A stillness. Beautiful stillness.
Standing aside, letting motion flow.
Lost alongside a sea of movement
until his eye catches hers.

No longer invisible
she writhes under his gaze.
Her body motionless,
Inside, simply swooning.

A hand extended,
offered with silent command.
Accepted with barest tremble,
and his knowing nod.

Led into the fray
on faltering legs,
A subtle stumble
into accepting arms.

Hand holding hers,
One at her back, comforting;
Pressed to him, safe;
the warmth of him, shared.

Faltering steps, she blushes.
He lifts; she glides, she smiles.
Now flying in the sea of color.
In his arms, relaxing.

His eyes locked on hers,
Her lids flutter with her heart.
With this man, feeling.
With this feeling, panic.

Music fades to silence,
Swaying, spinning, stops.
The sea of color, frozen,
Murmur of spoken words.

His gaze; her heart swells.
His touch; her fear rises.
Her breath; shallow, rapid.
Her voice; silent, failing.

She turns, withdrawing.
She runs, disappearing.
He smiles, knowing,
She will be his.

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