A Night to Dance, Part Two

My breath catches in my throat
as I gaze upon this my savior
from complete solitude,
this knight who has defeated
my plaguing companion, loneliness.
Remembering my manners
that had been drilled
into my very being since I was
a little child, I curtsy,
my very frame trembling
like a dried up leaf
on an autumn oak that knows
it must fly away on the wicked wind,
no zephyr, never to return home.

He returns my feeble attempt
at courtesy with a noble bow,
proper in that it does not mock,
as previous others have been,
nor does it steep too low
like a drowning whale,
nor is it only a mere slight incline
of the head.
In every aspect I find it the
most perfect bow this evening.

"How do you do?"
This very sentence sends chills
of delight racing up and down my spine,
and I find my lips returning a gentle
smile, forming the proper response.
He extends his gloved hand to my own
shrouded in white gossamer,
and we begin to waltz to our own music,
here up on the balcony
under the glinting white stars
and radiant moon.
Our steps are smooth and perfectly
synchronized, like some great
clockwork, effortless and fluid,
even graceful. We exchange names
and titles, and discover that we are
one another's equivalent in standing.
Such a lovely, exquisite, faultless example
of a man have I never had the great
privilege to make my acquaintance.

Long after, it seems, the party below
has ended, we are still dancing
under the slowly descending silver disc.
Abruptly, my new idol pauses our step,
looking around in agitation.
I gaze at him inquiringly, rather upset
that my fleeting impression
of friendship has come so soon
to an end.
He glances quickly at me,
seeming to drink in every detail
in such a short span of half a second.

Then, in such quick succession,
I am made aware of several events,
all occurring within
a moment of the other, like a
hummingbird's rapidly flapping wings.
First, a dark shadow on the slated roof
darts to another equally shaded place,
agile as a housecat stalking an ill-fated mouse.
Second, I hear a rustling behind me,
in the curtain, a soft susurration
akin to the whisperings of meadow flowers
under a silent breeze.
Third, a sharp pain explodes upon the
back of my skull, causing the
world around me to shift,
and colors to distort my stumbling vision.
Cold marble welcomes me into
open arms, and I nestle close,
every nerve in my left arm screaming
to run, to shout,
but I cannot function.

Before I close my eyes in sleep,
the shiny boot of my dear
gleams in the darkened sky,
proclaiming the coming of dawn.