I watch the little girl twirl in the sun,
Her tutu reflecting light like diamonds
As she skips along for a day of fun;
My own memories return like sirens
A Proustian moment, sans scent, strikes me,
A visual reminder of my youth,
Hopes I had while Dad bounced me on his knee,
But I am older now—this is the truth,
But age does not matter; we all have dreams
And continue to evolve, twirl, and skip
Like the young girl who dances while she beams,
Who does not care who sees—or if she trips!
Follow the tiny dancer in your soul;
Remember her because she makes you whole.