Most strange I find that fleeting glance
that opens up my prisoned stance
a flash of re-cognised gold
in binding rings that spellbound hold.
Hold what, I asks
can such a spell hold me
trapped by what I think I see
no that surely cannot be.
Most strange I find that fleeting glance
that breaks this spell
the one I dance
but is that dancer not just me.
Just me, I asks
may I have that dance
the one where we whirl with glee
myself and I set free.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-we-dance/
