Beauty is Subjective

Around us she dances,

Her elegance showing in her moves.

She weaves through the crowd,

Laying not more than a gentle touch

On every man and woman passed.

No man can keep his eyes off her,

Everyone tracks her with their eyes,

And she turns red with their glances.

She moves with her mate.

Wherever he goes, she goes.

She is his constant companion,

Since a young age.

They grew together, and together,

They became better.

Together they are vicious.

They are a force to be reckoned with.

Their movements are an improvised waltz,

Each just as precise.