The tap of the legs,
the closing in of the shoulders,
brushing against each other,
like destined to unite.
The smell of the perfume,
lingering,when the face comes near.
Lost;as it turns to acknowledge the audience.
Magic being cast upon them,
not an illegal act to be condemned.
I shouldn't lose the count,
checking my sobriety;she is.
Trying,if not intentionally,
to mislead my judgement.
Because,I am a victim of her beauty.
Lone prisoner of her love.
Its not that people haven't suffered under her denial
Lucky,I am,to be a part of her,
As for now through the dance.
The music gathers pace,
add up to the finale is an embrace.
The moment;as an image is still
The approval comes as an uproar.
Soon the applause vanishes.
The only thing that remains still,
Is the image of an embrace...
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