The ballerina

Twenty monotonous years
And my heart still skips a beat
When I hear soulful music;
My body yearns to stretch
And glide–on the kitchen floor
Until I’m standing on my toes
And the muscles in my feet convulse
I can’t do it anymore…

Reminiscences of my youth
Spring up in my head.
I used to twirl and curl
Like the music notes that curve
Gracefully on the stave.
-leaping through the air
And defying the earthly gravity.
I was a blooming,slender water lily
That would lithely wilt in the afternoon blaze.

I’m fifty five now. My skin has wrinkled
And my hips no longer
Would settle for something
So inadequate as a Tutu.
I groan when I stretch
Not proud of my Achillean heels either.

I awkwardly snort in nostalgia
My eyes brimming like a child
Whose toy was snatched away.
I move swiftly towards my wardrobe
And pull out my ballet shoes
They are discoloured and worn out;
My feet have not grown since then
So they fit in perfectly.
I hum a familiar piece of cajoling music
And gracefully pirouette into the air…

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