Masquerade

Masquerade

She walks into the ballroom in a gown of the finest blackest lace, she has a commanding presence though you couldn't see her face

Everyman wanted her, all the females wish they had her grace, she moved with a sensual glide as she moved about the place

Men swarmed around her like moths drawn to a flame, but still she kept them distant, her commanding presence still remains

They got her drinks they gave her a seat, it was like a Queen holding her special court, but no matter how they grovelled to her, her favors can't be bought

She danced alone for a while her mask tight to her face, with elegance and sensuality she danced around the place

Woman watched with envious eyes at her curves, her sexy style, all the time in the corner the poet sat with a knowing smile

Then she saw him sitting there, in his chair of wheels, she walked over to him, in her pair of killer heels

Slowly she removed her mask, she at last revealed her face, the poet glanced up at her, his heart lept about the place

Instantly he knew her, she was the Goddess of his dreams, stunning in every single way, well to him that's how it seems

She lent forward and whispered, please take me to your bed, take me once again tonight, like you do inside my head

So the poet and the Goddess left the ballroom, soon they were both alone, and the masquerade was just a dream, another poem on my phone

Ron