Painted black, her raven hair
In flowing rivers, painted her shoulders.
Cheeks-a-blush—a fullness there.
Her slate-grey eyes—two sullen boulders.
The darkness of ten thousand years—
But warmth to welcome tortured souls.
The envy of her jealous peers—
Perfection, but it's not the goal—
She dances here and there with grace.
Her lovely countenance aglow—
The look of longing on her face.
My heart begins to overflow.
I cut in to steal the dance.
Her eyes meet mine and then they smile.
Though we met by circumstance
Fate would have us dance awhile.
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