Dance of Life. #poetry

2006. Ballroom dance practice.

 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.

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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.

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