A Language Misunderstood

Fri, 10/17/2014 - 06:53 -- dedree


She moves gracefully, drifting like a leaf in the wind.

Her body twist and turns to a rhythm only she can hear.

Her moves are not a series of steps,

but seem as one complete movement.

 It was even more beautiful than the sway of her silken skirt.

Her hair flows behind her like a fountain.

The way to her soul shines a blue,

a blue that reflects the deepest depths of the ocean.


 Just a dancer right?

Plié! First position, Jeté, Pirouette, Arabesque!

Not everyone has this gift. Most are fakes!

Some people hide, but when she dances

There are no secrets.

The dance she knows of continues into an unknown territory

Where new opportunities await her.


There she was.

Her head tips back with a slight smile,

A that smile would fill the heart of any blind man.

She stretches her arm out,

Reaching, Reaching, Reaching,

With rhythm I’ll never forget.

I know her story.

The language only a dancer would know.


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