Softly.
Arms float like dandelion tuffs,
Riding the current of the music as it floods the room with
Color.
I take the blues and the violets,
Painting the air
With the flight of my fingertips.
I let them mingle with the
Rhythm,
Allowing my legs to become my words
And my movement an instrument for emotion.
Strongly.
Muscles pulse behind a veil of
Priceless grace,
Tainting the motion with a lens of effortlessness.
And soon my hips join in the
Chorus.
Engaged in art as they wind the curving staircase to
Locomotion.
It’s a freedom all my own,
Saving my soul from the taxing handcuffs of
Conformity.
Where I can slip my toes along the palette
Of every pigment that makes
My dance
A work of art.