Marmalade Hill

Marmalade Hill

Ten long years I've been drawn to this place,

To Marmalade Hill, to the man without face.

I wonder if he knows, what he does to me,

That man on the hill, that I love to see.

At the strike of twelve, he lights up the night,

As I gasp for breath, at this theatrical sight.

For he is my secret, my guilty pleasure,

The joy he gives is beyond any measure.

He dances with flare, he dances with grace,

Drawing me in, the man without face.

The music begins, starts dancing with him,

In time to the song, each flow of his limbs.

He starts to pirouette, rising way up high,

To the sounds of flutes, dancing in the sky.

What would it be like, to dance with this man,

To feel the electricity running through our hands.

Twisting and turning, dancing in his arms,

Such a wonderful spirit, and all his charms.

Losing ourselves, in the art of dance,

The spirit and I, what a wonderful romance.

If I could die tonight, on Marmalade Hill,

Let our spirits entwine and dance at will.

Who is this man who dances with such grace,

For I only know him as the man without face.

206 Words

6 Stanza's

24 Lines