It is funny how leaves dance on their branches.
They spin
With a magnificent finale of letting go
Gracefully playing with the wind.
People dance too.
They hold on
To their dreams, loves, ideologies
As they move on the dance floor.
My dance is limited to swaying and spinning.
My leading man-
My dance partner
Myself too
Still groping for steps.
Sometimes I lose the beat
Go whirling with no direction.
Today my feet are tired.
My toes are beginning to hate me.
My fingers are crying.
I have been dancing wildly.
I feel myself rebelling.
I trip.
I watch the dancing others…
On my shoulder,
I feel a tap.
I see a hand.
I take it.