She has been
working for months.
Dancing in the studio,
in the streets,
and even in her room
alone.

She ties up the
strings to her
ballet slippers.

Steps up from the floor,
her stomach filled
with butterflies.

The dancer, in her
elegant tutu.
In her soft pink
tights.

She steps away
from the shelter
and the curtain slowly
opens.

The inticipation was
killing her.
She glances up,
the glances of the
expecting audience.

She realizes.
This is her time to shine.
The music begins,
as she flows across the stage.

The dancer.
So practiced.
So poised.
Flowing across the floor
with such energy.

Her tight bun,
begins to fall out


of it’s safe elastic.

She is on top
of the world!
Her performance,
perfected for months.

Is finally coming true.
She glances up,
and sees herself.
In her jeans and t-shirt.

She glances at
herself.
In her bathroom mirror.
Knowing that day,
of dancing for an audience.
Will

Never


Happen....