On The Brink

tap, tap, tap

tap, tap, tap

When I was four,

I started my first dance class.

My mom bought me

white tights and a pink leotard

and my first pair of noise makers..

My first routine:

Baby Take a Bow;

identical to Shirley Temple,

smiling bright on stage

with lipstick and blush

I still have the tiny costume:

a white dress with big red polka dots.

Today, the black tap shoes sit in my closet, still shiny

because I stopped tapping the next year;

the shoes hurt my feet.

So I switched to ballet and jazz,

something more my speed,

something that let my feet be free.

I have a love-hate relationship with dance.

In the moment, as I sweat and take deep breaths,

waiting my turn to do the jumping exercise again,

I think about how these days are numbered,

how September of next year,

I’ll be moving onto college and dance will still continue,

but I won’t be there and my current tap shoes

will sit next to my first pair, collecting dust,

but showing more wear and tear.