Once a Dancer?

lizzie-p Poems

I twirl around, arms and legs moving in sync. Breathing deeply, I repeat the motion, and when I mess up, I laugh at myself. My head whips around and my eyes search for the spot of which I focus. Once more I spin, and finally, I come to a stop. Reality washes over me, I'm not in a dance studio, rather, I'm in my room. "That was then," I mutter, "this is now. No more." But I still reminisce, recall those happy memories. I continue to forget the steps, and how to do them. When I'm alone, and my mind wanders, I sometimes think about those days. From the sound of the music, and my aching muscles,, to the jokes or complaints, and the instructions from the teacher. And sometimes I search. I look through my mind for all that I learned, and I look through the house for them, My leotards, tights, ballet shoes. When I can't find them, it makes my heart ache. I miss the days of dance, Ballet, tap, and jazz classes. I remember my friends, those I haven't seen since. I recall the rush of the stage, and wondering if I'd change fast enough. You know that saying? The one about dancers? Allow me to tell you, its the truth. Once a dancer, ALWAYS a dancer... At least until you forget...