The Part That Dances

In a darkened room of the mind, a young girl dances. Her moon-colored dress softly glows as it twirls about her. She looks like a ghost, a shade of some long-forgotten past. Gentle music flows from a dream within a dream. The waltzing girl's partner is a single blood red rose delicately held in pale slender fingers. Her dark eyes sparkle with a secret happiness in the gloom as her midnight hair fans out around her narrow shoulders and white neck. Her bare feet make no sound on the non-existant floor as she gracefully dances to the notes inside herself. She laughs without reason, smiles at the world, lays in the grass, watches the clouds, and dances in the rain with no coat. She is the free spirit of the world that resides in us all. She is the part that is truly alive, the part that dances.