two left feet.
Age Rating: 13 +
I envy the trees dance . I sit under their
shade and I curse them . Elegance as the
wind flows through them, directing which
way to turn. Which way to bow.
I sit like a stump. Only an afterthought of
their beauty. I am too clumsy and stiff to
dance with the wind. My dress is too plain.
a green not deep enough to make desire stir
the leaves. I have grown sickly pale in my
solitude, in my steps. Left foot . Right foot.
Left again. What a boring routine. I have grown courage to cut them off. I have one advantage
the trees donít.. my body is rootless. My
limbs can be replaced by the technology of
my time. I laugh at the dancing . I spit
in the wind.
But the truth is I just want to be beautiful.
I just want the wind to be the only thing
pressing me . the wind. With it I Flow into
the future. Dancing on my grave, casting shade
on my headstone and shooing away the clichť consolations. The sun sets and the shadows
are from night and what belongs in it. I donít,
so I leave. I leave to comfort and the leaves
and the boastful trees. In my room I perfect my dance . Tomorrow, Iíll show them. Tomorrow.