Her silhouette was pale
as she danced underneath
the silver moonlight.

Every spin and leap was timed perfectly
against the tempo of
falling dewdrops on stone.

In dance, she merged
heart and soul
with the nighttime scenery.

Her grace was the
elegant swan gliding
the silver lake.

Her beauty was the branches
of the willow tree rustling
gently in the night breeze.

She welcomed the moments
when passing clouds
blocked the radiance of the moon.
For only in the darkness of the shadows
was she able to dance freely.

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