The Dancer

The Dancer

A Poem by Emilybe

her feet leave the ground and there is no weight
She spins, twirls, spins, twirls, spins, twirls, spins, twirls, spins
She dances to the drum that her God creates
She is strong because she is rupestrine
she practices her all too steady gait
spins, twirls, spins, twirls, spins, twirls, spins, leaps again

© 2016 Emilybe


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Added on June 14, 2016
Last Updated on June 14, 2016