beauty of dance
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"Write a poem due by my desk on Friday," he said.
I looked at the assignment and wondered if I should have just fled.
Putting my annoyance aside, I sit down and put my pen to the paper.
This body, a burdencrooked spine, flat arches,pain for bones too youngto bear such wear.But then, music.
Soaring as high as your body will take you
Turning on one leg like a top.
Constantly moving and changing
And who said you ever have to stop?
Cascading through invisible barriers in the air
You are breathless, listening hard.
Don't breathe or you'll miss it,
the soft murmur of her feet kissing the air.
The dancer is quick and lithe,
