Bashful Twirls
(What goes on inside a dancer’s mind)
Every beat passes
my bells are soaring
Sipping gallons from water from glasses
stepping into a dome,
where an audience is roaring.
The present is
what to concentrate on
The past, however, lies
in my first breath although gone…
Speakers hang
from above my head,
Trying not to
hit my head with a bang
Trying to imagine the step
where I gradually twirl with my lover,
when the melodious notes are sung…
Letting go
of inhibitions if any,
Earnestly trying to snuggle,
My little world in the hearts of many,
Sacrificing,
each moment for the better.
Meanwhile
gesturing my friend
to hastily give me a parchment
So that I may
continue dancing to finish my statement
oozing out words and feelings writing my letter,
And humbly leave the performance so that,
My twirls and stretches create
pleasant imagery and not bewilderment.
