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spirt
February 25, 2010
Five, six, seven, eight.
Beat by beat, twirl by twirl
She danced.
Her arms were like waves, soft and delicate.
Her feet brushed the floor with grace,
You could see the emotion in her eyes.
The dancer danced with sprit.
By the time she was done,
A soft smile grew on her face.
She felt accomplished.
15 years of dancing,
The young girl was remarkable.
She looked at herself in the mirror and knew;
She was good.
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