Music Box Dancer Poem by wanda Hardwick

She stands poised
atop a round glass box,
a small ballerina
with a painted on smile
patiently, quietly
she waits for him,
to start the music.
She grows weary
counting away the hours
days until his return.
She yearns to see his smile,
feel the warmth of his touch,
hear the gentleness of his voice,
the softness of his breath
as it lightly sweeps
across her neck
as his lips tenderly
brush her skin.
Anxious to perform
she whispers his name
in the darkness
as if by magic
he suddenly appears.
He takes her from the shelf
caresses her body tenderly,
whispers loving words
that she so desperately
needs to hear.
Slowly, the music starts
their bodies begin swaying
gently, purposely
keeping perfect rhythm,
the dance intensifies
they're lost in the moment
another time
another place
as passion and desire
consumes them
and they succumb to their lust.
Exhausted, they collapse
in each others arms.
Bodies spent,
they lay motionless,
momentarily frozen in time.
Suddenly, the music stops
the performance is over.
He kisses her gently
places her back onto the shelf
walks to the door
gives her one last glance
then as quickly as he appeared
he is gone.
As the door closes behind you
I'm left standing there
staring at a lonely empty room
like a Music Box Dancer
I anxiously wait
silently wonder
when or if
you'll be back
for an encore performance.