Upon conception a dancer was formed. When she was born, her first dance was to her father’s cadence. All through life, while music played she twirled to the melody at hand, always pleasing the source and stepping to the expected beat. Looking around she heard beautiful tunes and watched as others toed their own lines and spun out of sight. She did not know how to find her own song, so she continued to pirouette for audiences of one. In the summer of her life, she heard lyrics to a beautiful song, and she followed it like a hypnotized child. She could see over the gate all that awaited her, but the gate was so high and the road appeared too long. She turned away and went toward the familiar songs, and could only long for what existed beyond the gate.
You ask where she lives. Tonight she will pad silently across the hardwood floors and climb the stairs that lead to the balcony. On her way, she selects music of her choice, the songs that remind her of the path not taken. Out on the balcony beneath a canopy of stars, in the palest moonlight she will wait for the notes to resound through the open windows and spill into the evening air. Wearing only her faded cotton gown, and a smile likened to a new crescent moon, her eyes shimmer like a bay in the mid-day sun as she begins her dance. Feet that barely touch the wood flooring and fingertips that paint the horizon with her dreams, she dances alone. Tonight it is her song, her dance and she is content. Deep in her heart she smiles, knowing that what lay beyond the gate will always be there. She lives in the music of what she knows, and what could have been. Give her five minutes and she will dance for you.

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