This pretty ballerina ties her shoe-strings, willing to all too wholeheartedly, over-eagerly, downright determinedly bring everything to this particular dance-floor of misadventurous sorts
A pirouette or ten oh so ably, fair fastidiously created on her rather affably besotted part
All In The Name Of Art
This rigidly seen mid-afternoon team just needing to get to breathe again – knife-edge stuff indeed and her crowd who continue to come in the entirety of their colourful numbers only know so much
One serene touch on her lean and limber, utterly chisel-jawed fella’s part and she gets to set this stage alight all over many a distant albeit suddenly delight-filled shoulder
Bolder than Kuryenkov, twice as spliced
Sprightly, frighteningly so stick-thin even if that is the way it just has to be
Tee it on up, harness the life right back on through their each and every next flailing headed being
Analysing everything without any real clue
Born to be this way, she can manage to coax then impress you nonetheless

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