A little tap,
The barest brush
And I'm flying
The wooden floor is there no more
Only the stars in my eyes
Springs in my legs
And music in my ears
A swaying, rhythmic cadence
Drenching me in something I can't touch,
Can't taste, can't smell, can't see
But I close my eyes and try anyway
It's an expression, you see,
A talk-story of what the song is saying
It's a different tale every time,
A book I want to read over and over again.
What does your story say?
Author notes
#8 - If you share my love for dancing, express that
...so I did. Thanks! (Option for the contest I entered this in)
A contest entry
- 140th Contest by Tarja.
450 points, ended January 7, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Mr. Comment Box wants to hear your story...in comments! Tell him a beautiful melody-talk-story here...and leave a comment or two, while you're at it.
Comments
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I enjoyed the personality written into this piece. It is very obvious to me that dancing is part of your soul and I can tell this just from your words here. Thank you so much for your passionate entry and good luck.
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