They call her Prancer.
She is a tiny dancer.
A budding romance.
Nothing can break her trance.
She wears a crown
As she twirls in her gown.
Dancing in April showers
Of May flowers.
She spreads her wings.
Spinning through Saturn’s rings.
Mind and body are one
As she heads for the sun.
All of the answers
Lies in the tiny dancer.
Dancing is the key.
Her soul is free.
