Dancing Still

I will change this later, but for now...


My daddy tought me
how to dance.
When I was little,
he would wrap my
hands around his
thumbs, and swing me
around.
He tought me how
to twirl.
He loved twirling
me and making
my dresses spin.
When I had his
thumbs in my fists,
I could do anything.
I could flip,
stand on my toes,
and most importantly:
twirl.

Every Sunday to
church, I would
wear dresses
always.
I didn't care what they
looked like,
as long as I
could twirl in them.
My shoes,
had to be slippery
on the carpet.
If they stuck to
the carpet, or had
friction, it was
harder to dance.

For a while,
I stopped dancing.
I am not a born
dancer.
My feet don't have
the tallent to dance.
I don't have the cordination.
I was embarrassed
to dance.
If I ever did dance,
I danced in my room,
behind a closed door.
My feet don't have
the tallent to dance,
but my heart does.

I learned that later.
It is hard to keep my
heart still.
I tried to compensate
with my hands,
and usually that works,
but my heart still
wants me to dance.
So I have given in.
My daddy tought me
how to dance.
And I am dancing still.