My dance…

My Dance

Trip. Fall. Stand

Stand. Fall. Trip

Is the beat

Of my feet

as I dance, whirling around.

At times there’s a sound

My tapping like a heartbeat;

yet some steps are so silent

My “marshmallow feet”

I would sing and smile

Dancing all the while

Until I trip; fall

Ending my ball

I don’t have two left feet

Or any reason to lose the beat

just a mountain of worry

that I attempt to bury.

Impossible; a mountain cannot hide

under the ground of my mind

but I shall conquer, I shall stand

For without a foot I have a hand

I may trip and I may fall,

But on my mountain I will stand tall.

~Anna Brown



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