Waltz

So inadequate,
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable,
Faded me.
Wallflower at best.
I don’t dress like them.
I don’t talk like them.

We know it.

Their smiles so bright
And eyes so blue,
With shiny hair so golden.

We know it.

Life is like a masquerade.
A ball, a waltz,
And they the dancers.
I, amongst the scattered chairs
Reserved for loners, faded and plain
With “stranger” pasted on my forehead
Starker than the unwritten “last year” on
My gown of simple gauze.
Dance card of life so empty and bare,
A sad comparison to theirs,
So worn with handling and flourishes of
Suitors eager to adore.
Laughter fills the air, high-pitched and giddy,
Light and dizzy.

We know it. They know it. I know it.

Hear the rhythm of the waltz
The one, two, three,
They glide by me.
And in my chair, I pine and stare
At glorious they,
Unremarkable me.

They pity me, I know they do,
With honeyed looks that pass like blue.
And then they sweep on and on,
Their trains like billowing clouds of perfumed silk.

I slip away out of the room,
Leaving strains of strings behind
Following the music of the moon.

Once outside, the cool air breathes.
I see not they, but who I am.
And so I dance my waltz alone,
My one, two three,
My glorious song.
A tune so splendid no one knows.

And never can their dresses costly rival mine
As moonlight streams between its layers light and pure.

My song.

So inadequate,
Walking past them through the halls.
So unremarkable.
Faded me,
Wallflower at best.

Until I dance my waltz.