To Be A Dancer
Plie, Fouette, Grande jete
There are the words that I hear
each day.
"Point your foot!" "Turn out from the hip!"
I notice my sweat going drip, drip drip.
Aching muscles, swollen
parts
I feel like I've just been shot with darts.
Sweaty clothes and 2-hour classes
I now have to miss all the Sunday
Masses
But once it's my turn to dance up on stage,
I forget all the pain, all the stress, and the rage.
I'm suddenly
performing all the steps with great ease,
Dancing my heart out, not caring who sees.
It Takes Me Away
Round and round and round I twirl,
off in my own little world.
Not a single care in sight,
as long as I dance with all my might.
All my worries fade away,
dancing liberates me I say.
I get to express myself,
it is not done for the wealth.
I am taken to a serene place,
my feelings being shown may be the case.
Not one dancer can deny,
how it gives the ability for your soul
to fly.
I take no credit for my dancing,
without my teacher and parents