The women, a young dark haired Russian, glides over the ice.
Her hairs hangs down and in loops and braids, white sparkles.
A elegant, midnight blue and slight costume makes her a fae.
She is free, spinning and dancing, momentarily floating above.
She is free, of weight, of breath, of all that comes from our flesh.
She is free, a fae beguiling all who watch, all who love her now.
I watch her, and I am lifted too, from my angry mind and hate.
Fae child I fall in love with, grace and pride that comes from blood.
I watch her, and as she spins circles of light, I forget myself.
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