It isn't a sugar plum...

The room was filled with

Warm light

Bare feet

Decidedly

Stepping

Across tile and rose pedals

Incensed air; intoxicating

Beautiful leaves

Hands joined in

Dark hair

Those eyes

Focused on the

Focal point

A dress hem brushes

Warm tile

An ankle bracelet

Quivers

As I walk

In my enchanted Imagination.