The Dancer

She said she was a dancer but she doesn’t dance no more.

It seemed like all the light and good was locked behind some door.

She reminds me of my mother, who all said she could sing.

Except I never heard that voice and no coaxing could it bring.

I sometimes watch my daughter and that light that’s in her eyes.

I will fight with all I have to keep her spirits on the rise.

It’s can’t all be sunshine, in the darkness we have dreams.

And that’s the fire we need to stoke or it all busts at the seams.

Dennis Mantin

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