She dances alone, in the still centre
of the empty room. Slow turning,
a poised delicacy of seamless motion.
Her long white dress becomes movement
shaping swirls around her legs.
A ghost memory of all her steps.
Her bare feet seem to float above the floor
tracing delicate, intricate, patterns
like complex routes on secret maps
that she always takes on all her journeys
across this barren landscape of bare floorboards
to distant places where her body can sing.
