It started with a crescendo,
our Bolero!
me, in purple hood,
sleeves bagging in the chill night;
ice-packed floor alight with the warmth
of coloured spots and the elegant dance.
Inspired, we admired dancer blades carving the route
in a night city court,
closing our chapter on a tale of winter love,
complete.
And then you,
you entered fearless and falling into the barriers
with purity and accidental grace;
my clumsy mind wobbling blind as
plum leggings and silky trailing scarf
cast you as the perfect score.
At once in skater dreams,
our edge-running unison sparked and forged,
steel blades leapt into crystal spirals,
and double jumps tripled as heartbeats raged
and quickened.
And then it was us,
envisioned glassy love perfected in motion
near unstoppable- breaks sudden,
skates lock sharp, legs twist and splay and tumble;
a commotion and clatter of incompetent dreamers.
Drawn back from the sweeping magic
where the stars now dance and spin our heads,
they still aspire as champions kindling Bolero’s fire,
and a return tomorrow where I think
our passionate crescendo will loop the rink.