Wallflower

Tapping toes,

fingertips restlessly keep time on my hip,

swaying gently to the rhythm of the music,

watching dancers swirl before me

brilliant and light as butterflies

Only watching,

though I long to join the throng

alone at the dance,

waiting, hoping

yet

ever a wallflower,

There is a place in the promenade

When the hour comes

and with a gallant bow

the pleasure of a dance is asked.

But my song is not yet played.

I thought perhaps that one,

No, then this?

Waiting, impatient on the sidelines

Partners I have had;

Each out of step with me-

One who trod on my toes,

careless of my feelings,

Another didn't know the steps at all,

dragging me from the song my heart heard.

I wonder if my tremulous, valiant smile

has become more of a grimace of pain

shyly addressing the swirling crowd.

I wonder, heart aching, if I should learn

to dance

alone.

You lift my hand to your lips,

bowing in invitation;

How easily we move together,

you hum an echo of my heartsong

I am floating in your arms

The dance pulls you from my arms;

again I am sidelined,

waiting for the music to bring you back to me.