Charmer

You feel beautiful,

don’t you?

With your head held high,

watching me.

You sway,

in a trance;

held fast by the sleek notes

of the soft piping lute.

They glaze your skin

like oil over dark water.

Everyday I lure you out to the street.

The crowd slips around you

to watch me;

to see how I can control you.

You are charmed.

You can’t stop your movements

because you are afraid.

Afraid that I will hurt you,

or worse,

that I will leave you.

But I will never escape this basket,

I have no legs.

I felt like writing poetry last night and I came up with this. I'm still unsure about the ending, and I'm not sure if it makes sense "as is". I'm hoping it turns out like that spinning dancer optical illusion where you look at it once and she's going clockwise, and then you blink and she's going counter clockwise...