she twirls in place
upon her toes
letting the sounds
drive her movements
like mists
she dances
without a whisper
her legs like reeds
in a cool summer breeze
her arms boughs of a tree
drifting in the winds
her hair like fine silk
rippling like gossamer
she seems suspended in time
a figure oft unseen
but still there
she leaps like a gazelle
she bends like wheat
she floats like dandelion fluff
she is the essence
of all I dream of
the grace I wish to possess
the dancer I wish to be