Desert Blossom

Another hour has passed, while I wasn’t looking.
I spin against the sun, a desert blossom;
knees soft and arms flowing—a fragrance of grace.
The sun drips orange across the horizon
and I still dance, pivoting against the four winds.
Like a twister in the sand, you charge across time,
breaking speed barriers with your Arabian gallop.
My dance stops mid-spin, yet my heart performs
half circles until a cycle is complete.
And there is no turning away from the fact
that you hold me captive within your pyramid arms.

~ ~ ~
A poem spun from belly dancing moves.