The Difference

I lace up my shoes, metal tapping the wooden floor,

a flap and shuffle to a time-step and wings,

pull backs and draw backs (yes there's a difference) for days,

from slow to fast, and the middle pace,

the metal taps turn to hardened and worn pointe shoes,

a grand battement to a grand jeté,

pirouettes and chaînés across the stage,

and a third arabesque en Croix to finish it off,

soft, pliable shoes now encompass my feet,

giving me a confident, sassy attitude,

fouette turns into a fan kick with a great big smile,

a turn of the head and into the splits,

tennis shoes on my feet, body loose,

sharp movements fast, followed by slow,

fast, quick, move to the beat of the rap,

sliding on the ground then back up at it,

my feet are now bare, feeling the hard wooden floor,

arms heavy, but light, skim across the ground as I hang over,

a pull from an invisible force send me upwards,

swinging and jumping with emotion throughout the stage,

and pulls me back to reality,

and that I am just one of the many dancers,

dancing at the convention, competition, or studio,

imagining what it would be like to be known for dancing