Shaky steps in brand-new heels I've barely owned a day,
A soft dress around my shoulders, clinging tight to my waist,
No noise as I sit, the stool scraping on the floor,
An echo as I move the microphone to pick my voice up more,
"I'm not actually on stage," I say, more to myself all in all,
I rest my foot upon the pedals, let the first note ring through the hall,
And suddenly I'm playing, I'm saying what I think,
And they all hear, draw near as each finger sinks,
The words I wrote mean far more than faking 'Christmas cheer'
They are mine, my hopes, my plan, my next and next new year,
Take a hand: Dance.