Her dance is like a graceful doe,
As twirling strings fly further
over the encompass of her silk.
A misshapen steps shows the slight demeanour in her balance
Its callous correction extinct now.
It all ends with leading turns;
Subtle bows flourished amongst
The wavering ribbon.
As finally, quickly, she places her body
in the dancing hands
that now surround her.
All done, no more, and now
it’s time to relinquish all
Evidence of my being here;
Only a memory keeps to remain.
A misshapen steps flicks me
fault-fully across the floor
The callous correction clumsy.
Twirling strings tangle round
the brashness of my crumpled dress,
Stunting with my movement.
My dance will forever be like a newborn deer.
Her dance was like a graceful doe.
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