Ian Anderson

She dances through the flower-filled room —
Sea-green eyes a-sparking.
Or are they blue? The message clear:
Seduce the master, winking.
Dainty feet circles inscribe
Upon the frozen parquet.
Arabesque in compound time:
Stately Pavane or Bourée.
Sultry smile, come hither gaze —
Black hair softly shining.
Calls me up to half-lit bed.
Sweet cloud with golden lining.
Oh, so young with ageless smile —
Born of ungodly maker
Draws me: moth to candle bright —
Fiery pleasure-seeker.
She dances through the flower-filled room —
Sea-green eyes a-sparking.
It's Rupi's dance: the message clear.
Her movement does the talking.