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When she moves...

When she moves she moves to music,

In a Latin sort of way, her dress is metronomic,

Mesmeric some might say. She dazzles in high

Fashion, hits the right note every time, and

When she walks her body talks in a language

Tres sublime.


When she moves she moves the menfolk,

To her Cuban rumba beat, a sway to take their

Breath away, a wiggle just for cheek. She's

Rhythm in a cotton frock, dance ripples through

Her veins, her tempo wild and wicked, her

Fiery hips untamed.


When she moves she moves the heavens,

As the male tries to advance, she flips her skirt

As if to say 'go away I want to dance.' But he is

Having none of it his aim to lower her guard, and

This he'll do symbolically with his handkerchief

His arm.


When she moves she moves exquisitely,

In the heartbeat of the dance, a super-tease enticing

The attention of a man. Wild music fills the stage

Tonight as lovers play their part, with storms of sensual

Energy as she protects her heart. But here I fear my

Poem ends and here my pen must stop, for I promised

On my honour I'd not reveal the plot.

©Joseph G Dawson


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