The Dance of Dawn

I sensed her presence,
long before I saw her.

Peering anxiously out of my windows,
I paced back and forth,
not sure of what I was waiting for.

She wore the night like a velvet cloak.
With the hood pulled over her head.

I saw her then.
A translucent, moonlight face
more fragile than dried rose petals.

Slowly she raised her hands
above her head and began to pirotte.
And, as she danced,
sparks flew from her fingertips,
lighting the sky with stars.

She flung back her head,
and her hair cascaded
down her back with
a rhytmn of its own.

And, as she danced faster
her petticoats slowly swirled up.
Going from smokey grey to dusty rose;
I even glimpsed pale apricot.

Then the night fell
from her shoulders.
Or maybe she cast it off.
And, I, beheld the most incredible sight.

She wore only her many petticoats.
And, showed no shame that I,
was seeing her so.
Although, in truth, her raven locks
kept much from my view.

Now she slowed her dance.
And turning her face toward me
she smiled, and blushed so deeply
that the very atmosphere around her reddened.
And I was so awed that she
had honored me so.
I turned from my window with tears,
tumbling unashamedly from my eyes.

When I looked back again, she was gone.
And I felt such pain,
I knew instantly I would
never see her dance again.

But, nothing can take away
the memory of the night;
I watched Dawn dance.