Stealing the Words

Stealing the Words
                           for Eliza

Black-haired, with a whiff of powder

and distant murmur of perfume

you dance into the louder

reaches of the noisy, crowded room,

elegant and colourful, yet silent

your step as graceful as flight

so that every voice is suddenly lent

a moment of your quiet

and unassuming, with such verve,

with a colourfulness you’ve never heeded

open and smiling you have the nerve

to be yourself, no acting needed.

The burble of noise resumes, absurd

with self-importance – it’s enough

that for a moment you stole the words

from every open mouth.