Dancers Never Die

Too old for the stage, too young for dreams to retire,
her body aches, yet her soul is full of artistic desire.

The spotlight was hers as the audience cheered.
She grasps for fleeting moments of that yesteryear.

Now I watch her aging body leaping with grace,
knowing forever her lost dreams she will chase.

An abandoned old railroad, this dancer’s new stage,
confidently gliding, she spins a story on a blank page.

The orchestra replaced by the sounds of earth,
birds and whispering wind inspire her new worth.

The packed house replaced by an audience of one,
I watch my true love dance as she’s never done. 

Her arms move like silk; her hair spiraling free.
For once, she dances for herself, not for others to see.

It is a dance of freedom, a dance embracing change.
She will not bury her dreams, simply rearrange.

The world silently in awe as she takes her final pose.
On an old abandoned railroad I lay a single rose.

Discovering her peace, realizing dreams need not die.
“The world is my stage” is the answer I see in her eyes.