The Dance

Dancer
Photo Credit: Melissa Dooley via CC

The Dance 

Sweet Sixteen, a languid soak in a hot tub for a girl, but it’s gone as soon as the water turns tepid. It’s true, we never know what we have until it has passed, if not a bit cliché.

Lithe lines and fluid movements ache inside my weathered bones. The silent dance put to sleep. If only—don’t all regrets begin that way—I’d known what power and precision was held within when I was a girl cloying for the stage. Sidetracked by love, I sold my soul.

Yes, youth is wasted on the young. Death rattles through our ageless echoes, and He beckons bone to tooth.

© Grace Black

107 words
#flashdog



Micro Bookends

 Fiction Written for Micro Bookends
A Micro Fiction Contest. Come write!

“A WEEKLY MICRO FICTION CONTEST WHERE WE PROVIDE THE FIRST AND LAST WORDS AND YOU PROVIDE THE REST.”

2 thoughts on “The Dance

Words, love them! Have some? Leave them.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s