The lights are on me.
The first move is the one that counts
People rarely care of what's in between, the first pose and the final one are all that matter
Shanks broken as shanks are made
The stress is often whaty breaks us
The timing in eights, not always though.
Sweat pours down our faces as we reach pointe
Hoping.
That it won't be the last time
Buns, and tutus, hairspray, and shoes! All of these things are an object of their own
But together, they create a dancer.
Ballet, contemporary anything you can name
We all have the same desires
One does not know happiness until they find their true love?
No.
One does not find true happiness until they dance in the rain.
YOU ARE READING
I am a dancer (free-verse poem)
PoetryJust a little something I threw together after watching an amazing documentary called First Position. You may not agree with me but this there are my opinions of dance (from a dancer)
