You Asked Me To Dance

You asked me to dance,

quite innocently.

You followed me to the dance floor

and took my hand in yours.

Your fingers interlocked with mine

and we moved – a respectable distance apart.

We talked lightly, joked and laughed

as you guided me – you were a great lead.

I quickly learned your style

and we danced quite easily.

The music moved us.

We glided across the floor.

We shared a love for song,

a love for dance.

What could the harm be in

such as simple as that?

Fingers laced together

and swaying as if we were one.

It was far too soon over,

our single dance was done.

What made me accept

your invitation

when dancing with another man

had been forbidden me?

Did you know how intoxicating

that brief encounter would be?

Was it just that I had not

danced a slow dance in so long?

Was it you, or the moment,

or was it that sentimental song?

Answers have become to me

an illusion

and become cloudier

with each passing day.

The next time I see you

what will I say?

I belong to another

and so do you.

I know it was just

a silly dance.

I know it meant nothing more

than that to you.

But me?

I can’t get that feeling

out of my mind.

I hadn’t felt so special

in such a long time.

There is a longing ache,

for something that will never be.

Just because you asked me to dance.

Quite innocently.

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