The Court

The scene was set, a gallant ballroom, swirling skirts
but the dancers were not normal dancers for they swirled
and twirled with the magic of The Court.
Their faces hid with gold, silver and mirth,
forest green and cobalt blue, ruby red and dazzling diamonds.
One amongst them was not common, not a normal dancer,
for she, she the Queen, was of the most beautiful.
Envied by the Lords, coverted by the Princes,
wonted by the Dukes, she swirled and twirled,
tiny feet sliding across the floor like no other.
Her hair floated with each smooth step,
her eyes enchanting all those who dared look to her face.
She was no one's, this free spirit,
she declared her life as her own as she danced
to the infectious beat when she wanted to tango
and it was a waltz. Bracelets clanged on her slender wrists.
The Court decided no one could move quite like her,
no one could even compare.

When she set eyes on a young architect,
not a Lord or a Duke or a Prince, but
tall and lean, dark and mysterious,
The Court knew none could compare.
For she had made up her mind, loved him the second
he stepped into the ballroom,
masked in gold and maroon.
Him, timid. Her, bold.
She stepped up to him, reaching out her hand for him to kiss,
as she led him onto the dance floor, to place his hand
on the small of her back, hand in hand,
as they swirled and twirled the most
magnificent dance.