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Night Dance
February 2, 2014
Leaping, gliding, spinning
At last free from the tendrils snaked across your wrists, your ankles
Each jump ending back on earth, a muted thud.
Your silhouette twists, creates new shapes on the tiles, the wall.
No spectators, no watchers, no judges –
Only the clock, a silent sentry, slipping into minutes past midnight.
But you’re no Cinderella
No fairy godmother, no magic.
You don't need it.
A soft bar of the moon, blurred at the edges,
Settles, gently, on the back of your neck.
Even the night loves you.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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