Gliding gracefully in a slow, rhythmic waltz,
On a moon-lit, soft, grassy dance floor.
As the admiring crowd disappears into the ether,
You suddenly remember, you're a dignified, solo ballerina.
Shouldering expectations and led by an unwavering example,
Who has heard the stories you've never told?
Who understands your inner strife?
Who can feel the melancholy in your life?
Juliet, tilt your head up t'wards the black velvety sky,
You shall find me shining my faint, flickering light.
The night breeze chills your skin but I warm you heart.
My unpunctual light reaches you with my poetic art.
Let my words be the hourglass sand,
Flowing with you through time and space;
Let my light be an extending hand,
Touching your soul with a lyrical embrace.
It is sadly true that I am out-of-sync and terribly late,
But the night is young! So shall we dance, Ms Brathwaite?