Page 18 - Dance

Dance

The young man places her delicate hand in the masculine and
loving grip of her fathers, then steps back and humbly bows.

Her grasp tightens and she leans her rosy cheek to his
chest… In his arms he held her, his little princess. His
extended shadow drifting to and fro, rocking effortlessly.
Slightly raised above a whisper, the sweet sound of a father’s
song, aloft in the cool night air. A song, a dance, a slow,
sweet, dance, that only a father can understand, when
holding the one that holds his heart, and he quietly sings...

Dance with me baby, dance and sing,

For I’m now the prince and you are the queen.

The music is playing, the harp and the string,

So dance with me baby, tonight

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