Adventures through the looking glass and out into the big wide world

The dancing woman

The dancing woman’s
round an imaginary maypole
I see her
at the strangest times
in the most unexpected

She almost eludes me
but out of the corner of my eye
I catch her
circling, skirt flying
like a spinning top
and colours
brimming orange and red
spilled from
every pore.

She’s delighted
at the day
reminds me of possibilities
almost out of reach
like the dancer
but like the dancer
in my sight
and just
within my grasp

She cheers me, the dancing woman
cheers and inspires me to create
and to believe
and I believe
because I know
the dancing woman
is me.


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This entry was posted on September 4, 2015 by in poetry and tagged , , , , , , , .



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