The Dancer

Satin black ballet shoes
with black ribbons criss-crossing her legs.
She dances, to the saddest music,
like she's writing the saddest words.

She sings with the voice of a siren
the saddest songs you'll hear,
over fields of black tulips
to a beautiful black swan.

Her skin so supple, and so porcelain pale
with eyes as dark as night
and hair so jet black
and her little finger nails always painted black.

Her movements, so fluid
with no emotion in her soul.
You'll be watching forever
and she'll always look just so.

It's like she is the moon and the night
if they could be made into one,
and with her black and white beauty
she's dancing through the stars.

Her beauty cannot be copied
and her mind cannot be read
and you'll never know who she is
besides the most beautiful dancer;

who's dancing through your dreams