The Night She Danced

Beneath the moon, the fire blazed,

Its warmth and light in shadows phased.

And there she stood, fierce yet fair,

Lívia, with raven hair.

Her movements flowed, like waves at sea,

A sight so foreign, wild, and free.

Her skin, so pale, like sunlit stone,

In every step, her spirit shone.

I watched, a warrior, proud and strong,

Yet with each turn, she drew me along.

Her eyes, like night, locked deep in mine,

A force beyond the world’s design.

She danced, her feet upon the ground,

With every step, my heart unbound.

Her gown, though simple, clung like mist,

In every twirl, by fire kissed.

She spun like winds across the shore,

Her movements called, I longed for more.

No battle fought, no shield nor steel,

Could stir such strength, could make me kneel.

Her glance was bold, fierce as a sword,

Yet held a softness I’d never adored.

It struck my chest, a wound so sweet,

And brought me trembling to my feet.

Her hips did sway, her arms did rise,

She moved like whispers beneath the skies.

Each step she took, my blood ran fast,

A moment too brief, but meant to last.

I, a man of iron and war,

Now weak with longing, craving more.

Her gaze, her grace, her every turn,

Awoke in me a fire that burned.

She, of a people strange and proud,

Yet in her dance, the gods allowed,

A bond between her soul and mine,

In every move, her form divine.

I could not speak, my voice was caught,

The warrior fell, no strength, no thought.

For in her eyes, I was undone,

By moon and fire, our fates were spun.

Her dance, a flame, wild and pure,

Made me crave her, made me sure.

That though the night would find its end,

Her glance, her soul, would never bend.

And when the dawn broke soft and clear,

I knew my heart had wandered near.

Lívia’s name, like waves entranced,

I’d never forget the night she danced.