The sequins of her soul, Ran lightbeams, Across the walls. And danced dizzily, Shooting stars, Upon the ceiling. And then she twirled, And when she twirled, I had the most indescribable feeling.
Of floating, Of falling, Of standing utterly still. I was caught in a hurricane, Whirling me about, My existence in turmoil. Should I approach her? Could I approach her? Or must I simply watch from afar.
Enough now, enough. This day-dream must end, I was not the man. Not the man to hold her, To clasp her to my breast. I would not dance with her. Decided, I looked no more, Not for lack of wanting, But for wanting that star too much.