Curling your fingers in auburn tresses,
the swirling of gowns and gossamer dresses,
from across the room, your sultry stance
compels me here, to the Poets' Dance!
Watch the coy eye as it lowers,
concealing the soul's own space of flowers,
smiting hearts with a smoking glance,
as I must hasten to the Poets' Dance!
I see the flush of your cheeks rise,
the starry mischief in your eyes,
the light and life of swift romance,
as my senses whirl in the Poets' Dance!
So come, dear Muse, share all your hoard!
Avast there, Sailor, and prepare to board!
Alight, Dreamweaver, now 'tis your chance,
to bring your hearts to the Poets' Dance!
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