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.