I think cried.
But not too much,
like most girls would,
Just enough
So you can see i cared,
Just a few tears to cover up,
One insignificant forever.

I ran through enchanted forest,
when i was brazenly young,
with my cold fast feet,
barely touching the ground.

The sun was playing childish games,
making various patterns through the leaves,
the wind was chanting forgotten songs
through souls of tall willow trees.

I was captured by this beauty,
by the solitude in which i roamed,
where ever i went away from this place,
i knew the road will bring me back home.

Night is just night,
without it being told that
it should be dark
and sunless.

It is what it is,
by its own definition.
It does not need stars to shine
In order to make darkness meaningful.

Still, the stars shine.
They do what they do
Without self-acknowledgement,
They simply do.

Be.
Like night and stars
And meaningfulness
And Self-acknowledgement.

once again I find myself
lying here
sleepless in bed
and thinking of you
longing you by my side
your fingertips on my skin
and your hearbeat suiting itself
after mine

Step by step,
With a gorgeous plié,
Kick some pep
Into a battement jeté.

A toy brought to life
During a winter dream,
Wining a mice fight,
Becoming king and queen.

Graceful and white,
Perfection is seized,
A swan's flight,
Applause from the pleased.

All these to treasure,
To hope for, but first
Have the right measures
And break the weight curse.

Do not eat much
And practice all day,
Have the right touch,
Get that perfect cambré.

Pointe for pain
And chukkers for luck,
Just hide those blood stains
And redefine pluck

When all the joints hurt
And toes can't be touched,
When all one has heard
Is Tchaikovsky's crutch...

So proceed and endure,
Feel pain and relief,
Prokofiev's pitch contour
To be ones only belief.

Let all this be forgotten
When the curtains rise
And show all this works gotten
Perfection for a prize.