Waning Moon

Pale dancers scatter
Against polished floor,
Puffs of tulle gathering
Where the fairest maid waits
To mourn a measured dream:

Her waltz across a private sky,
Pairs and pairs of slippers fly
On crystal stair, that ocean by,
So close to where sailed heartstrings dry!

Then a tango in the vineyard lanes,
Where desire grows,
Those ripest grains;
That eat at princes', paupers' stains
Until a seeded want remains.

She had wanted to touch the ground,
Then and there,
Be fooled, to truly have tangled
In that fragrance fair.

But last, a city
Chased
Light at heart,
Jaded suns
Where darkness start.

And so she knew,
Remembered again,
A shadow cross
Her brightest face,
That Earth, so treaded bright,
Was not her place.