csrose
Their eyes,
Piercing,
With every move I make.
I'm here to entertain,
To please,
But they constantly search,
For my imperfections.
The love shared between two,
Is woven into song,
Into hearts,
Interlocking hands,
The sharing of smiles,
And laughter...
The little girl opens her dark brown eyes to stare up at her mother. "How does it end?" She asks, eyes full of curiosity. Tucking some free hair back into her daughters ponytail, the mother replies, "It ends, how ever you want it to. It's your story. You are capable of doing whatever you want." Eyes widen as the little girl begins to understand that the world is now in the palm of her hands. She can do with it now, as she pleases.
Approaching his heart,
I began to cry,
It is by far the most beautiful thing.
So free,
Unbroken, and flawless.
Does one figure out the world?
Or does the world figure out us.
Constantly changing and adapting,
How can we understand?
She dances gracefully around the stage,
All eyes on her.
Her brown hair sweeps across her face.
The techniques she knows and perfects,
As she steps from heel to toe.