This is the first of a three part series of poems on a theme. I wrote them all together as verses, however it seemed a little long so I thought why not make them into 3 parts.
In my dreams I sometimes dance,
As I would if I’d had the chance.
Standing around they begin to laugh,
No chance for me to choreograph.
It is my turn, I begin to stand.
No one there to take my hand.
So what happens if during it all,
A wrong turn I drop or fall?
As I spin my world around and round,
A moments’ freedom that I’ve found.
Upon my axis, steps I learn,
Acceptance is what I yearn.
The first audition, I take the stage.
This can be fun at any age.
My limits show in this performance,
As though life depends on it, I dance.
My efforts rewarded with a frown,
As though I am some sort of clown.
My inexperience will always show,
To professionals in the know.
But one is out there standing still,
Smiling back and enjoying the thrill.
He sees in me what I thought I could,
It didn’t really matter if I should.
I dance the bar and learned the steps,
It seems I should have no regrets.
He turns to me and begins to say,
You took a chance didn’t throw it away.
You danced your heart out, your own take.
In your own way and you weren’t a fake.
Although applause are barely audible,
I find your efforts were laudable.
There’s something there, you’re a natural
But this was a dream, it’s not factual.
Image: Morguefile
This little spider.
The Patchwork Desert
The sound of plastic luggage squeaking in overhead lockers.
byindiablue 