Steve Armstrong - The Fallen

You are majesty, I think,
The belle of the ball,
All eyes are on you,
As you walk into the room.

You flow through the air,
Almost gliding, its so easy for you,
Its as if it comes naturally;
The thing that others long to perfect.

Your long, silken, red dress,
Flows like the rays of Dawn,
Deep, firey reds,
Conjoined with burnt orange,
Shimmers in the light.

They all stand in awe,
As you move about the room,
With your counterpart,
The perfect Gentleman.
Speechless, as you perform your dance.

And as the years go by,
Time is not so kind to you,
Your skin begins to wither,
Your bones become weak,
You become frail,
A shadow of your former self.

You sit and reminisce,
About the old days,
About your fall from grace,
And how one day, maybe,
You'll meet him again in heaven,
And you'll dance like you did then.

Steve Armstrong

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fallen-2/