The Sweet, Familiar Ground

I’m all right, I’m all right.
I’ve said it seventy-one times today,
Paced the hard wood floors
In my bare feet,
Watched the cardinal
Through my upstairs window. She
Waits for her red-coated lover
From the oak tree.

He’s busy fighting wars, flying
Circles around the other suitors.

I don’t own a pair of pointe shoes,
But I want to wrap my feet in them
So I can dance closer to the sun.
My arabesque might feel like flight,
Pirhouettes like dreams,
Endless and glassy.

Seven nights a nomad,
An albino gypsy decorated
In the smallest fourteen karats
Braided into a heart.
The centered rose was gifted to me
And I hope to give it to you.

I hide it beneath my shirt until
Your eyes are fully opened,
Until you see me dancing here
On the sweet, familiar ground.