In the Afternoon

The Pleasure of Spontaneity

You stood at the top of the empty ballroom's staircase.

Silent.

Motionless.

Then all of the sudden, you lifted up the hem of your skirt,

pulling off your heels and leaving them on top of the steps.

You charged down the stairs,

entering the large empty room,

and pulling back the curtains covering the window,

letting the sun shine into the room and fill the room with warmth.

Next, you cracked open a window,

letting the cool air replace the stale dusty air amidst the ballroom.

Now, you began to twirl barefoot,

your bare feet pounding into the marble floor,

creating a rhythm.

There was no band playing music for you to dance to.

Nothing but the sound of the wind whistling through the crack in the window,

and your feet pounding into the ground.

The skirts of your dress rippled around you in a river of sparkling silk,

and your hair gradually became undone.

It fell down in relaxed ringlets to your waist,

and the rays of sunlight lit up the blond highlights of your hazel hair

as the wind picked it up and tousled it.

I find myself captivated by your presence,

and how you light up the room,

and I step forward, peering into the ballroom for a closer look.

When you catch my eye,

you stop mid step,

stumbling forward with the sudden change of movement.

You look into my eyes as if searching for my reaction,

and I answer it by stepping onto the top stair,

taking off my shoes and running down the steps.

You laugh as I grab your hands and spin around with you,

a noise that lives on forever in my subconscious.

It was soft.

Sweet.

Angelic.

A welcome noise,

that I promised myself I would try to hear more often.

-Jasper Bardot