My parents taught me lavender,

They had done it themselves,

As graceful as swans,

Their brightness lighting up the stage.

The stage glows under the effect of our golden costumes,

Your attire experiences every jump or twirl,

Alongside you and your dancing skills,

Leaving the audience begging for more.

Sometimes my movements,

are as gentle as a white feather drifting in the soft wind.
Other times my movements,

are rough and sharp piercing the amethyst emotions left and right.

What does it mean?

All of it, me swaying to the music without thinking

As the movements are permanently inked into my brain, the music,

Spilling of its own accord with no say in my dance whatsoever.

To this day,

I still have not figured it out,

The mystery of my passion,

The deep indigo fire that builds inside me every time before I go out on stage.

But I have found my love for dance,

Through the effort of my mother who found me my dances,

And my father who taught me to dance,

As well as to unlock my potential.