A Dance

Touch:

The feel of your small dainty little hands on my shoulders sends a shiver down my spine. Like a spider weaving an intricate web, so your little fingers spin cobwebs on my shoulder blades, weaving a web to keep hanging on to me.

Sight:

The sight of your brown eyes, drowning me in a sensation of warm kindles. Sparking, in the light of the ballroom. Like warm maple syrup in doughy pancakes, so your brown little pupils spill on your soft eyes.

Smell:

The smell of your fragance, hovers in a cloud around us. Guiding your dainty little feet, around and around, adding the ambience of a flower orchid. As the bloom of a thousand roses draw near in a flower garden, so your gentle scent stains my clothing

Hearing:

The gentle sound of your singing as we spin rings in my ears. Your harmonious soft voice creates this secure feeling as your singing gets softer. Like wind chimes to the wind, so is your beautiful voice to the music.

Taste:

I have not felt this sense yet. The experience is barren. But I long to taste only the cherry lip gloss, lip stick. It doesn't matter, as long as I should taste them and them alone.

All these things happened to create the wonderful: A dance shared by you and me.

The End

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