The Dancer

She stretches her body into a semi-tilted angle through which the light from the window curves through,

she cranes her neck backward with the collarbone etching a perfect U,

her slim ankles and slight toes face in opposite directions,

her arms and legs bend and encircle the room in perfect pirouettes,

the pink of the ribbon shines at her minimum waist,

her hair runs down into a mass of tumbles, 

the shuffle of the black silk enshrouds her every movement,

her eyes look at you and then past you,

at a spot in the horizon faraway,

she throws herself on the ground and leaps to cut the air above her,

she twirls once, 

she twirls twice,

she falters and then lifts herself to do it all again. 



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