She stops at the top of the stairs to adjust her mask.
Looks down at all the hungry men waiting for her,
Watching her descend as they lick their lips in anticipation.
She nods at a mysterious fellow.
He bows gracefully and she takes his hand.
He spins her round and round
As the floor clears to give them space.
All is in the rhythm of the dance
All is in the rhythm of the heart.
Kendall Lacey's Webworld 