May We Dance? Poem by David Taylor

Most strange I find that fleeting glance
that opens up my prisoned stance
a flash of re-cognised gold
in binding rings that spellbound hold.

Hold what, I asks
can such a spell hold me
trapped by what I think I see
no that surely cannot be.

Most strange I find that fleeting glance
that breaks this spell
the one I dance
but is that dancer not just me.

Just me, I asks
may I have that dance
the one where we whirl with glee
myself and I set free.