the ballet show

Golden tulle skirts shining like an angel’s wings,

Wooden floors engraved with the dancers’ step.

Lines tracing the ground with every turn, every glide, every leap,

Floating with the wind kissing their breath.

In and out,

My sighs with theirs,

Such grace bestowed upon them.

They paint the lifetimes of a thousand heroes,

Drawing the victories with their arms,

Sketching the tragedies with their legs.

All these stories narrated for us by heaven’s dancers,

Their satin shoes reflecting the patterns of lights from every chandelier,

casting us in their transcendent glow.

I can feel it in my soul.

Their joy in me,

And mine for them.