Gratitude Her gratitude was like the child dancing alone in the aisle of the crowded concert hall— mouth open, eyes wide, arms floating in communion with the maestro’s, oblivious to the presence of anyone or anything but the pull of the soul to move in the direction of Yes sonnet version: Her gratitude was like the child who danced alone amidst the crowded concert hall with mouth and eyes wide open, soul entranced, arms drifting with the maestro’s rise and fall. Unconscious of the stares, she twirled and dipped to match the oboes’ plaintive melody; now flutes arose to join her as she skipped in circles, hopping glorious and free. No priest could ever have the power to bless the way this child was dancing in the aisle; with spirit pirouetting into Yes her heart leapt up and landed with a smile. Alone the maestro sensed but could not know— behind his back, the true star stole the show.