Liar's Dance

Another Dance,
perhaps one you are familiar with;
You see, this one the pace is set by an irregular heart
one that quickens with every bend at the waste
and every hand held high.
This dance is tapped out by impatient feet
whose masters dare question every possibility.
This is the Dance of,
Dance of...
Dishonesty?
No, perhaps it is something more
It could not be this!
Too much beauty lies within every movement
for the dance to be within malicious intent...
A liars turn, a liars bow?
How could such a thing be born?
The piano plays a light tune, like a puppet's feet
upon dry leaves,
and your dress billows out into eternity.
The taps irregular beat at a predictable pace
and you throw your head back to taste the rain.
Dear puppet,
what tale do you have for me today?

~hm. I am such a puppet, aren't I?...~