Dance & Waves
Sep 7
1 min read
She danced where the water
forgot its own stillness,
her feet stirring silver circles
beneath the moon.
Her dress was metallic
sharp as broken light,
every edge catching the dark,
every movement a blade
cutting through the blue.
Yet she was not cruel to the water.
She bent with it,
turned with it,
let its hands climb her ankles
and pull at the shining hem.
When she spun,
she became a shard of moonlight;
when she fell,
the water opened for her
like a secret.
No music could be heard
only the soft collision
of breath and waves,
the whisper of metal
against the night.
And for one impossible moment,
she seemed neither woman
nor reflection,
but something the sea
had dreamed of becoming
sharp, luminous,
and endlessly in motion.
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