This Night

Very deliberately, consciously,
She felt the strength of her thighs,
Muscles first trained in dance as a child.
 
Her knees bent easily with reverence,
As if in prayer, for as a child, she'd prayed often.
These were now the legs of a young woman,
Exerting themselves for the pleasure of another.
 
Gazing down, the fortunate man
Saw in her a disciplined balance,
First peracted as a child at play.  
 
But the man standing in her room
Knew nothing of her past.
He knew only her present form.
 
He knew nothing of her family’s love,
Nothing of her mother’s death,
Nothing of the pride her father felt
When she danced.
 
He had never heard
Strains of Mozart’s Requiem in her voice,
Her joyous laugh  
Or tears of sorrow.
 
No, he knew nothing of her past,
Only this night. He knew only her one
Act of kindness as lips parted  
To receive him without guilt or constraint.