When I slam the car shut,
I can feel the vibration nearing.
Soon the pulsing music surrounds me,
The door is a gateway to a new world.

I walk to the beat of the trembling floor,
As I hurry to the next shining silver handle.
I jerk open the back door with a horrid creak,
But then am suddenly hit with a rush of relaxation.

The tapping of Pointe shoes on the cold oak,
The cracks from ankles popping,
And the freedom flowing from the speakers,
Shows a familiar face.

My attempt to concentration does not work,
As the little girls with little tap shoes run behind me.
Crossing the room, trying to be silent
But are anything but.

Sweat rolling down our cheeks,
Gasps of air trying to be caught by open mouths,
Banging and crashing out of failed turns,
Could barely be noticed over the rapid-fire yelling.

The ticking of the clock gets louder,
And so do the yawns and complaints.
The music fades out; it’s all too quiet.
As the night is finally sinking in.

A frenzy of hands grab for bags.
The whistling wind escapes in through the open door.
All around me I hear many “goodbyes”,
While I step into the car and close my tired eyes.