A smoke etched face
I walked in to the beat of the drums –
The moon hanging full in the starry night sky.
The fire blazed in the circle of drums,
Drawing in dancers with a hypnotic cry.
I’d come with my drum, to sit in the circle,
To add to the pulsing rhythm round the light –
But the fire reached out its smoky tendrils.
Intoxicated, I went without a fight.
I danced, without thought, around the fire –
The smoke held me in its bewitching embrace.
Moving to the beat, my feet didn’t tire,
My body upheld by a smoke etched face.
© Sarah Lee, 2012
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