For Her Distant Magic

Circus girl, in blue costume, with icy frills.
High above the ground, walking the tightrope.
She is serene and as unknown as an angel.
Her small feet walk without err or misstep, perfect.
 I watch her from the darkness, at her in the light.
Between heaven and earth she walks, flesh divine.
The air is without comfort, the fall without mercy.
She walks undaunted, uncaring, without fault.
 Spotlight on her, so high above, so far from me.
Her costume glitters, her face set, her beauty cold.
An angel of the air, she walks between worlds.
I, all too human, fall for her, for her distant magic.
 On the other side, once again mortal, a young woman,
she smiles at us in the crowd, and bows sweepingly.
I clap and cheer, thinking a love her, not her fleeting grace
as angel of the air, a walker between worlds, flesh divine.
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