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The Grace of a Dancer

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She flows across the stage,
Amid the scent of fresh burnt sage,
Hair tightly wound in a bun,
The outfit she wears is as bright as the sun,
As graceful as a bird she soars,
Acros the beautiful pinewood floors,
Never a pause nor a stumble,
Weaving through others who seem so humble,

This girl who's talent is finally out of its cage,
Lays an enchantment on the crowd worthy of a mage,
The attention of every onlooker has been won,
From the look on her face you can tell she's having fun,
Her dancing as graceful as waves on shores,
Beautifully coincides with the musical scores,
Her is perfect without a fumble,
The crowd watches in awe without a mumble,
As she flows across the stage,
Dispelling the scent of fresh burnt sage.



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