Caught in the Act

She sits at her desk
Scribbling with care
Weaving words
Straight from the heart.
The lazy arm
Rests as a bow
While the wrist sways
Like an agile snake.
The light of the dark
Kisses her soft arm
And the tiny hairs
Glimmer like gold
The ink dances with passion
Upon coarse loose sheets
And the candle flickers impatiently
As she writes in peace.