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Dancer on the Wall

Framed on my wall hangs the black and white photograph

of a dancer dashing with plucky aplomb, feet bare

head tossed back looking ever up and onward

one arm akimbo, the other flung gracefully back

her short dancer’s costume flouncing flying behind.

An impulsive purchase on my part a thing that symbolized

my spirit at the time, my plan to throw off my fears

send my hopes and wishes out into the world

to see, once and for all, what might come.

And so I have done, with that unknown dancer

on my bedroom wall reminding me of that

devil-may-care frolic that lives inside of me

and wants to come forever out.

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