Sometimes we think something is so real we can almost.. but not quite touch it.

In adamantine halls of brittle glass,

you led me in a danse macabre

<I thought it a waltz!>

our distorted images shimmering,

reflected dimly in the dusky rooms.

 

You took my hand and lifted me to my feet...

the gravity in your face belied by your glinting eyes,

<i thought: he is magic!>

and whirled me through hell's own gates,

into a palace of illusion and lies.

 

As we dipped and gracefully spun our way around the mirrored halls,

I glimpsed the silently mocking faces of those who watched..

A dim echo of laughter whispering softly round us.

<I thought I was  safe>

And still we danced...

my head buried in your shoulder.

 

The sudden rustling of wings,

the cacophonous twittering of a thousand sparrows...

woke me from my helpless reverie,

while splintered, shattering glass fell from round the rooms.

Screaming, anguished faces captured in the sparkling shards

 

I turned my face up to yours,

Seeking the answers in your dark eyes...

<Was it a riddle?>

and saw...

I was dancing with a ghost.