The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Dance of the Dragonfly

Apr
06

They call her the dragonfly. She floats across the stage, soaring into a perfect spiral, extension, the leap like magic, her trailing red and gold dress fluttering about dainty brown limbs. Emotion writ through every limb, across her face—she shines like she was made to dance and only dance.

For a moment, we are captured with her, dancing in the brightness of her motion, feeling the swell of music within our hearts. We leap, we cry as she comes to a stop and beckons; a smile invites into her stage, the flight of her spirit. We follow where she leads.

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