I arabesque upon a post of a wooden fence,
Following the sheep that I count.
As I drift into my dream world,
A graffiti pattern inscribed across the sky entices me.
I chase the elusive moon, oh so prominent, risen, past midnight, in mid- July.
Enya's song haunts me with her spirit song's intonations, as it
Lulls me to sleep.
I arise at dawn weeping in celebration of who I am and what I live for:
I am the sleep dancer.
My dancing slippers are the tools of my desire.
My internal anguish is felt with each step I take.
My lithe body levitates, as
Music envelops my room.
I am in constant motion-
I am the sleep dancer,
The ballerina in my dreams.
Fading into the night,
I dance the Pavanne, weeping for the death of
A princess I never knew.
As I hide behind the moon, I pirouette on that wooden fence post,
Still counting the sheep that I follow, as they leap before me.
I dance and dance throughout the night, alone in my dreams.
I am the sleep dancer-in my sleep,