The Magic of a Pink Dress

Outside she clutches her skirts to keep them from flying
as she walks around and across the street, saying, “Move!”
silently to those in her way. The breeze lifts her hair in swirls,
her stride exuding patience in its confident beat.
A nod and a click--the door opens with a twist;
One glance at the clock lets her know she made it on time.

A table full of new smiles; she lives for new times.
Even the slightly weird, like that guy’s shirt on the fly,
that had myster’iously torn off after a tight twist,
the impressive trick becoming and embarr’assing move.
Returning from thought, she steps on the floor: no missed beat.
The waiting face stares back, taking her breath in a swirl.

The people moving by her sides cause her dress to swirl,
but she is already setting in motion the time
long awaited. It seems like the floor clears in a beat,
even if it’s a mind’s folly that the others fly
away. Eyelids lower. A cautious hand offers a move.
Hands meet to matching grins and the song starts with a twist.

The movements of her dress catch shimmers every small twist;
Rapid spins and turns mix the room’s colors into swirls,
and each new track encourages the freedom to move,
but the partners remain together throughout night’s time.
The music, the laughter, causing spirits to fly,
holding onto every moment and dancing every beat.

With every renewed smile, it’s clear this cannot be beat;
How strange life can be, providing such a fateful twist!
of minutes that seem to expand and hours that fly.
Better than the favored choco-vanilla swirl:
One of those ord’nary days now unforgett’ble time,
a day where one, single action can cause so much to move.

They move to a quick rhythm, that tumbling beat.
Every twist, every swirl pulling them farther in
To a carefree flight of heart and feet now lost in time.