I hear you in the music of my mind,
your sonnets a waltz,
calling forth transparent images before my eyes,
a dancer spinning on the floor of thought,
bidding me join in her weightless ballet.
Had I but wings I would.
but for the momentous dance I alone witness.
Breathless in anticipation, I wait
for one false move that will never come.
Each gesture perfectly choreographed,
it is an illusion fit for sharing,
yet you gave it to me,
and I have no means to incarnate
a dance of angels.