by Ashvin Mistry
I felt her snowy hair brush about my grizzly face,
as the DJ spun an 8 track to dictate the throbbing base.
Guiding her through lifts and twirls then held in a tight embrace,
she held her breath, her heart, her pose,
for just one more moment of grace.
That pause between the beats,
is where I want to be.
Her not knowing, coyly yearning,
waiting for a glance from me.
