No, she did not dance like no one watched,
The stage was hers,
And she danced like it was hers alone,
Not hers for the taking,
She did not dance to prove she could,
The stage was hers,
And she danced like it was her only refuge,
The stage was hers,
And she danced like the stage was her world,
and the rest were only visitors,
She danced like she was the only one the crowd went to see,
No, she did not dance like no one watched,
The stage was hers,
And she danced as if dance was her lover,
As though she had not seen him for years,
And the precision of her movements,
Was her fingers sifting through his every inch,
Trying to figure out if he was still how she remembered him,
The stage was hers
And she danced as if dance were a cloud,
Gracefully gliding through the sky,
Nurturing droplets and vapors on flight,
And at the right moment,
She unleashes a plethora of movements,
As if she were a storm and they were rain,
No, she did not dance like no one watched,
The stage was hers,
And there I was, awestruck,
Watching as though I was the only spectator,
The stage was hers,
And as her hair flailed and danced with her,
I was caught within the strands,
It was not her grace that was intoxicating,
It was the angst,
It was the rage and fervor in her movements,
As though she was a poet,
And her dance was her poem,
And her every movement were metaphors,
No, she did not dance like no one watched,
The stage was hers,
And at that moment,
I was on my feet,
Wishing my heart was her stage,
Because she danced like the stage was hers.
