By Chris Miller

Lyrical poem

The Dance

Swan like patters swam through the room as the music played

The pastel lights shined above and below the dance room

The masked women ran as their dresses fluttered

The masked men chased with a light hearted clutter

Colors of spring splashed as the two genders collided

Amazingly even in number

None left out or alone

Simply perfect rotations of follower like dresses turned like clock work

The night was whimsically in tune to the soft mellow sounds of the violins in the orchestras

Then,

The tone of the dance suddenly sprang to different life as the clock struck twelve

And the women of the land left the ball

And returned to their homes.