I thought I saw her dancing-

in between all the other little dance girls.
Her face looked kind of like yours.

Her heart was as pure as precious as pretty.
She moved confidently with vigor, control, and the power of grace, she had practiced for weeks.
You could tell with just a look she knew what she was doing.
She smiled through it all, her team were coordinated.
Arms up here, high kick there. One step where, next step with care.
The edge of an ice skater, the pen of an artist.

The music stopped and the applause roared.
She hugged her friends and they were beaming with
Christmas and Hanukkah.
It was beautiful, and I tried not to clap past any child's parent.

Because truth be told, I hadn't seen her performance just yet.
Nonetheless- I felt her, and I loved her no matter the same.
For time would tell her story to me.