Arms reach out,
slowly but surely,
to a mother's embrace,
far out of sight.
On the tips of their toes,
the dancers crawl towards the heavens.
A goddess,
they call out to.
A god,
even.
Upon their hips,
twinkle and twine the sound of coins,
representing their dances of lore.
A tale, woven by dancers.
on the tips of toes,
and arms reaching out,
to a mother's embrace