La danseuse sur la scene

*****************************************************

They all watched you from the wings
.......As your slender limbs
.............threw you into an untainted flight.


How many tries did it take you,
little girl,
To achieve that perfect arabesque,
That flawless grace preserved so daintily in your
White shoes and satin skirt,
..............................confined
in all its starry splendor in that rectangular picture frame?


How many hours did you spend in a hot, stuffy room,
sweat dripping down your leotard to mingle
with tears of frustration
as you stood among one hundred other girls,
pushing your twisted muscles and tired frame
to claw your way to that one
..................................................brief
..........................moment on stage?


Was it worth it, little dancer? Maybe for you,
it was enough to say you were not straining yourself
in Vain
like I am as I sit in this dimmed room,
wishing that the pile of books and papers I dance on
was, instead,
a polished, wooden stage.


Keep dancing, shining star, until your painted spotlight
fades
..........away
into dusk’s bleak eternity-

until we are reminded in our weary, walking graves that some
short
moments
are worth years of pain.