A Dove’s Waltz

I find myself in a ballroom,
there are people abound — dancing, gossiping, eating.
I vaguely remember a conversation with my family,
they told me about the importance of this place.
Weirdly though, I can't remember their words or my own response to them.

The band has started playing the music, and a circle has begun forming.
I do not know when, how, or even why — but I find myself within this circle.
The Dance has begun.
I am not a dancer, and I find myself stumbling.

A woman with extremely gorgeous eyes comes to dance with me.
I am stunned after looking at her.
I grab her one hand and put a hand to her waist, and begin the waltz.
One, two, One, two — I mimic her motion and attempt to dance with her.
I look into her eyes to see how I am doing.
Her eyes — beautiful still — reflect nothing.
The dance continues.
She has a smile on her face, but oddly, I don't think she sees me.

The beat changes,
and she leaves from my side —
her smile unaffected, and her eyes still beautiful.

Another woman comes to dance with me.
She has beautiful hair and is wearing an exemplary dress.
I try to dance with her, remembering my last dance.
One two, ow — One, ow, two — ow, one, two.

The lady with the beautiful hair has her eyes closed,
yet she speaks to me about everything.
I try to converse with her,
but she appears unable to listen —
yet quite content in speaking herself.

I see her eyes to find my reflection,
but they are closed —
and thus incapable of reflection.

The music shifts, and the lady leaves me.
I see her leaving — she still seems to be talking.
I wonder — to who, exactly?

I do not know anymore if I am even capable of dancing,
or if I am just a mimic.

Unbeknownst to me,
a smile does come on my face —
for I have started enjoying dancing.

A new lady takes my hand —
her smile is as radiant as the sun,
and her motion carries the warmth of a hearth.

Perhaps this time,
because I have started enjoying the dance —
I actually mess up.
It is I who stub the lady's feet.

But her smile didn't flicker, even for a second.

I no longer desire to see my reflection in the lady —
for the dance has become too fun.

I take a risk
and try to disrupt the rhythm,
to add some groove to something so orderly.

She was caught off-guard a second —
but smiled when she noticed my movements
and decided to join my motions.

I was having too much fun.

The music filled my heart with soul,
and the movement kept me grounded enough to fly.

Through one of the moves,
I see her eyes.
They were beautifully reflective of the serenity of the sea,
yet jovial enough to remind me of squirrels playing.

I saw my smile in her eyes —
and the question I had been asking about my capacity to dance
had been answered.

The music switched abruptly,
as most things in life do.

I grabbed the lady's hands for as long as the music allowed me.
The dance had come to an end,
everybody was moving back to their tables.

I left her hand unwillingly.

As I did,
she grabbed them back and said,
"You dance very well. I am ___ . Can I ask for an encore?"

A smile came on my face yet again,
and I uttered without thinking,
"It would be an honor. I am ___ ."

When the dance finally ended,
I dared to utter something
that might completely destroy my sanity,
yet I couldn't control my mouth.

"Would you—?"

"No"
The lady replied before I could even mutter my thoughts.

Then, I could no longer recognize her face or smile.
I knew no longer where to look anymore
The music then caught my ear again, and a new song was beginning
My feet started grooving with it, unbeknownst to me, and a smile appeared.

Man.
I didn't know —
but I love dancing.