as sand squishes between her toes,
mr. sun kisses her on the cheek.
her hair whips in the wind—
and she dances.
she soars and she flies.
and she stays light on her feet.
she goes nowhere without a smile,
and she draws her people in.
methodic or chaotic she relishes in the moment—
of perfectly imperfect bliss.
because no one can feel grey when they dance.
there is no heaviness
because joy lives in the belly and is released through the hips.
it taps and twiddles through the toes.
the sensation of music beats coarse through her veins,
and she can see the colors they make in her mind.
she views the world a little different than most;
boldly. strongly. daringly. passionately.
and sometimes she wishes she didn't,
because sometimes it's too much to bear.
but she knows that through every darkness,
the light comes back just a little bit brighter.
and after every valley appears a new peak.
and through it all, she dances.
because who ever frowned when they were dancing?
certainly not she.