I dance upon the warm summer breeze, balancing on tip toes across the bars.
I dance to the music of the cars below, radios and televisions, snippets of song, floating words, alien birdsong and the strange music that is no sound at all.
Few look up to see the strange fey girl spinning in the air. They are too busy looking at their feet, rushing somewhere, running away from something to bother with the likes of me.
If you look up when you pass by and I’ll smile down at you at wave. “Come dance with me, my love. Dance away with me. I won’t let you fall. Promise.”
Thanks to Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers.