Dance of Life. #poetry

2006. Ballroom dance practice.

Blackshoe2IMG_0009 2009, before I retired these shoes.

 

Dance of Life by Pamela Schloesser Canepa, (c) 2019

Please don’t tell me how to dance
and don’t critique my dance
This dance is life and is not a dance with death,
it is a dance with what I’ve been given.
Don’t check the boxes while I dance
My dance is what I’m feeling inside
My dance is where I am in life…
It changes all the time.
To think I used to wear those shoes,
I danced away depression and blues.
Did I worry about a judge?
I also forgot to bear a grudge.
Now here I am, sneakers and yoga pants
and I still at times break into dance.
Sometimes the flow of words is my dance,
Sometimes comforting a child is my dance.
Don’t stare and check your boxes,
the dance is the story, a story, partly fiction
the story is me, the dance is survival
One can only live through self-expression.
I am not within the box,
and no one else draws my lines
so join me if you dare, or laugh along.

Yes, laugh, I said. It means that we’re alive.

Finding Michael. #FFfaw #amwriting

Photo credit, (c) Enisa.

We were eighteen and his parents were tired of worrying.

The note on my step said, “I’m gone.  Hanging out somewhere guarded by two dragons.”  It sounded delusional to me.  His parents were used to his strange speech.  I hadn’t told them he may be reacting to my latest boyfriend.  Michael and I weren’t as close lately, so I felt slightly guilty.

Two weeks later he was still gone.  I enlisted my younger brother one weekend, scouring the town.

Great imagination, or maybe he didn’t want to be found right away.  Sure enough, two dragons were guarding the field where Michael was camping out.

A thinner, tanned Michael smiled and hugged me.  “I didn’t think you cared.”

“Ron may be a cool guy, but I can still care about you.”

“Yeah.  That’s good.” He put his arm down, but kept smiling.  “Thanks for being my friend.”

After all, I was still his friend, despite college and new friends manipulating my time.

I didn’t tell him about breaking up with Ron.

Story: 175 words

 

A prompt photo will be provided each Monday pm to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Monday pm and runs to the following Monday pm.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try and stay within this limit.

5. Please indicate the number of words in your story at the end of your story. (It doesn’t count into the amount of words).

6. This is a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less) and each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. 

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