Hi there! I was watching a silly film about dancing with my parents this evening, which inspired this little poem that I hope you enjoy.
I have always wanted
To learn to dance; I always thought
That if I practiced, eventually
It would feel like flying,
The floor disappearing beneath
Feet that know exactly where to go
Without
Treading on someone’s toes, held
Close, but not too tight,
Moving in time through
Dappled sunlight across a dusty wooden floor,
Swishing skirts swirling,
Maybe even lifted through the air –
And the whole image
Seemed to sparkle.
Eventually, it was left, this
Daydream,
Under a grade 2 ballet certificate and dust,
Somewhere in the back of a cupboard
Where it faded from mind, replaced
With hiking boots instead of dancing shoes,
Suit trousers instead of petticoats,
Learning, instead of dreaming,
Instead
Of flying.
Until
A silly film had me digging through
The scrapbook in the back of my mind,
To a crumpled, faded picture
On the back of a postcard,
And I thought to myself;
Why couldn’t I
Be both?
A Teacup Full of Stories 