my heart has learnt to move to the rhythm of your touch
your fingers wave the spell, and it starts to dance
sweeps across my skin, and it slips into a trance
it has memorised the steps, and remains mesmerised
even now, long after the puppet strings have been cut,
still it sways to the memory of our dance,
any song sending it flying, mystified.
forgive its foolishness;
it is too familiar, it is too
easily reminded.