Non-Erotic PoetryDelusional Balleta
ballet
in the
soft night
as the
fog drifts
over her form
I am lost in her
perfect motion
a silent grace
subtle beauty
concealing
strength
and power
I wonder how
she can drift and
fly in such harmony
she becomes the
music in her
every move
a lilt of the
head a
soft note
a bend
of the
wrist
a soft
pause
a bow
she
fades
soft
into the fog covering the morning, into the fog of my dreams
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