Dressed in finest with diamonds and pearls,
Draped in cascading waterfall of silk and lace,
Velvety scent hovering delicate skin,
Senses heightened, a muse enters the ball.

Lights, glitters, somehow the chandeliers reflect,
The festive and jovial non caring mob on the floor,
Flirty and inviting giggles and smiles of women,
Received by the charming and engaging flock of men.

I hear a toast of welcomes and greetings.
Glasses were raised of sweet bubbly champagne.
Wishes of well-being and welcome filled the room.
Faces passed into an recognizing blur of smolder.

But the reception was a well-played sham,
The festive, a rehearsed staged scene from your screenplay,
Artists are your familiars that act on your command.
With the exclusion of the maiden muse you invited.