The Dancer

A moment of timeless beauty,
a vision of pride,
a stardusted jewel
in the teary eye.

The tune of the wind
is her violin that sings,
to an angel that dances
in the rain, lit by sun,
kissed by the wind.

Weightless, flawless
behind her mask,
dazzling and bright,
as sun to Earth
and stars to night.

She crouches with poise
and leaps through the air,
as lithe as a tiger
to encircle the soul,

With her swirling, shimmering 
dress and dancing gown,
upon her brow
a sunflower crown.

She dances through 
wildflower fields,
and twirls in grace
upon a dewdrop.

To rise as a colourful
butterfly, in watercolour 
shades light and fair,
to paint her dreams
upon the air.

Where she sways
to the music of the Earth,
as her heart beats
in rhythm with the universe.

And through the stillness
of the night her spirit flies,
with freedom in her heart,
a flame of silk,
a dancing star.