Moscow's Dancer

In the heart of Moscow, where the snowflakes dance, I find myself in a fleeting trance. The world outside is cold and gray, but in my heart, there's a warm, soft ray.
I am Isadora, a daughter of the elite, In this grand city, where the past and present meet. My days are filled with lessons and grace, but in the silence of night, I find my space.
I write these words with a trembling hand, a girl of privilege, in a world so vast. I dream of a life beyond these walls, of freedom and adventure, of echoing halls.
Many do, and that must be known, for the wind is not only made to be blown. I strive to survive in the waves of the tides, only now I know that I cannot hide.
The streets of Moscow, they call to me, A world of mystery- of history. I long to wander, to explore and discover, to break free from the chains that hold me under.
The echoes of misery find me, and my dear mom wants to guide me. Through this I am supposed to rise, to find my place, to see how time flies.
Etched in my heart, there's a love so true, for this city, for this life. I'll walk these streets with a steady pace, for in Moscow, I've found my grace.
I trust my ancestors and refuse the call, the call to flee-to be free.  From now on, I will dance in place so that my daughter, too, may find this trace.