Dance

If my fingers 
could dance and 
not merely drum
upon you they
would from brow
down to toe 
taking you in 
all of you 
like a candlelit 
ballroom of sweeping 
moves and gaiety 
of cursive curves 
and simple strides 
until at last 
under mirrored light 
of the stars 
and blue moon 
they would rest
upon your lips 
and then there
mine would too