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FLOWING


Roger Singer



Style formed like waves
as the engine of her grace 
poised delicately on
the stairs;a statue of means, 
she descended in timely order. 
Porcelain skin, Egyptian
soft, absorbed
surrounding lights.
A faint shadow of form 
paled at her side, slipping
over steps like warm spilt milk. 
The orchestra softened its tone
as her foot touched
the floor. Eyes glanced.  
Gowns turned and swished 
like breeze burdened autumn
leaves. The orchestra returned 
its sound as hands and 
hearts moved to her.  








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