But
I love the way that words dance
on a page,
like a trance.
They have me
in the palm of their hands,
in a waltz.
So I’m a princess
at the ball,
with words as my prince
they enchant me
like a witch.
It’s like magic
how they guide my pen
to arabesque,
do the tango,
then a courtesy.
Oh, how polite,
and how gentle
so fragile,
so tragic.
They’re all mine
in glasses of crystal
that I glance at.
You can’t trap them.
They hate stillness,
I take their lead
My words dance
Cause they’re free.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 7:59 PM UTC
But
I love the way that words dance
on a page,
like a trance.
They have me
in the palm of their hands,
in a waltz.
So I’m a princess
at the ball,
with words as my prince
they enchant me
like a witch.
It’s like magic
how they guide my pen
to arabesque,
do the tango,
then a courtesy.
Oh, how polite,
and how gentle
so fragile,
so tragic.
They’re all mine
in glasses of crystal
that I glance at.
You can’t trap them.
They hate stillness,
I take their lead
My words dance
Cause they’re free.
I feel like i cant write a poem unless it has movement