The Dancer and a Camera

A poem of a dancing girl from the prespective of her friend with a camera. Free verse, since I can't rhyme worth jack.

 

This room is a sanctuary

from the crisp waxed wood floors

to the walls covered in mirrors

that reflect her every move

a thousand times

over

I hold my breath

inside of my chest,

the beating of my heart

sounding in my ears

I'm not afraid

that she'll hear

no, because she invited me

to share this space

with her.

The stereo thuds to the ground

beside me

her soft-soled shoes

brush across the floor

her flimsy chiffon skirt

whisper a sweet melody

against her legs

Her eyes fall on me

a smile crosses her full

petal-pink lips

Her skin is lily white

while mine is as dark

as maple syrup

poured straight from

the tree

She uses a clip

to pull her glossy black

hair back in a

taut bun, revealing her

swan neck

Encased in a black leotard

and rosy pink tights

she raises her arms

over her head

and bends her knees

I reach over

hit the play button

feel the click in my bones

and listen as the sounds

release her

The music begins

and she's gone

her eyes heavily lidded

that small, dreamy smile

spread across her lips

I hold the camera to my chest

feel her rhythm

in my bones

as she whispers

across the crisp, waxed wood floor

She swoops

dips, spins

dances, swirls

twirls, kicks

and jumps

She is an artist

with her slender body

encased in a black leotard

Her chiffon skirt whispers

of her delight

her shoes barely make a sound

as she moves across

the room

I feel my heart in my throat

I raise the camera, one snap

two snap

three snaps

too many snaps to count

I document every step

every twirl

every jump

every kick

every dip

I can't stop

my finger is pressed

to the button

I can feel my heart

match the rhythm of the clicks

and then the music ends

and she stops

her body composed in

a poise

that suggests

she's still got more in her

I lower my camera

I am embarrassed to realize

that I am breathing

just as hard as she

though I had done nothing

but take a few pictures

She regards me

with a smile

her lily-white skin flushed

with happiness

pleasure

delight

I stand from my spot

and hand her the towel

she pats her face dry

and calms herself down

as I run through the memory

on my camera

I thank whatever god was

watching

because the pictures are

amazing

showing her grace

her beauty

her delight and pleasure

“Was that enough?”

she asks, her voice gentle

in the silence

I grin back. “It was more than enough.”

And it was

Even if I hadn't gotten one picture

it would have been enough

Author's Note

I'm not very good at poems, but I like story telling in stanzas. I'm not very good with it, but I do love it :)

Reviews

[Ruby Stance]

This is an amazing poem. I like to tell stories in poetic verse too. I hope that you will post more of your poetry in the future.