The weather was cold,
The sun died low,
The earth shook quiet.
Yet, her ankles jiggled unprovoked.

Her twist and turn at every tremor sang tunes.
A belly dancers with her make up running down.
She was born a slave.
A slave to the house of the unseen.
Yet, her ankles danced unprovoked.

When the showers poured,
Her wings grew.
While she danced in the cool storm, water trickling down her body.
The nobles sat sipping tea besides the fire place in rich silk.
Yet, her ankles danced, unprovoked.

Roses🌹