She waltzed across the oak wood floor.

Her skirts trailed behind her feet.

She traced the ground as she spun,

Humming a soft, humble beat.

She twirled, her hair flowing against her back.

She gave the young boy a chance.

She heeded his request, of course,

And in a swirl of flames, she danced.

Author's Note:

My apologies for the spam of poems, but I am currently reading through my book of poems, and have found another I would like to include in this collection.

I actually wrote this poem when I was trying to write a short story, but it was not turning out how I was hoping. So I converted the storyline into a short poem instead.

If you would like to see me actually write this short story, let me know! Perhaps now I can write it.

-I. Quill