My dance was escape
From the always too much vine
You are, crawling over the souls of others,
Choking them with tendrils of your love.
My dance, too strong for such tendrils,
Stepping the swirl patterns
My dance, leaving colors of spring
In the wake of its rhythms,
Paints new life into me.
My dance, following no one,
Discovers love in its patterns,
Creating new steps of invitation
To be followed by my soul.
My dance, flaming and firing in warmth,
Burns away the coldness meant to kill.