to a dancer   Moving like a dancer on a dream, in and out of focus, round and round, cartwheels and candycanes . . . sometimes you seem hinged on the wind and floating like a sound even softer than a whispered song. Laughter tells, and tears will have to wait; laughter tells, one smile can make us strong enough to bear what's there, to bore straight to the heart and sound the harmony of the whole, ever so softly, ever so sure. . . . Stages never were meant to stand apart, and roles should show us how to play outside our cages like the kids we are, and like a stream embroidered by the glance of moonbeams you can dance and teach us how to dream.     © Michael Fleming San Francisco, California April 1982