Stage Fright

She untucks the strands of hair

from behind 

her left ear.

 

They are brunette curtains

of curls

and locks

that her almond eyes carefully peek through

 

As you,

centre stage,

mighty and proud,

hop and twirl

a waltz of prose. 

 

Basking,

in your rap of revel.

 

With her protective tassels

she hides the flush

and pink roses of your compliments that

sashay across the angles of her cheeks.

 

The blushed petals 

pirouette 

to the rhythm and 

beat 

of your ode.

 

Beneath the locks, 

her left ear hears 

the call 

for her harmony,

for her to join 

the duet.

 

They bloom and

lure her whilst 

unravelling 

those protective coils

that drape across the stage of her face. 

 

And with your delicate bow

nearing the finale,

her locks

unlock. 

 

Ready for the leap. 

 

She is a cannon of springs and whirls, and lust that 

dance 

towards the curtain call of your chestnut eyes.

 

And you,

a beam to her limelight, 

tuck the strands of hair back, behind 

her left ear.