“Stop jigging about, you’re showing me up.”
“I’m dancing,” she said with a sigh.
“Stand still, it’s embarrassing, will you give it a rest.”
“But why should I mother, oh why?”
“Because it’s the law,” her mother replied.
“You must only be seen, and not heard.”
“But no one can hear me strutting my stuff,
I’m as quiet as a fluttering bird.”
With that she opened her arms to the tune,
The one that played around in her mind.
She took to the air with the greatest of ease,
And landed kerchunk on her behind.
Her mother did scold,
As the woman approached,
And the world turn around just to look.
“I wish I could dance,
Be as free as a bird,
And take a leaf from your beautiful book.”
She brushed herself down,
As she stood with a smile,
Her mother apologised with shame.
The woman bent over,
She asked who she was,
Then she asked, “Could you do it again?”
Five years from that day,
Her mother does wait,
Outside the school of dancers,
You see it’s not just those,
With talent that count,
It’s also the ones that dream of,
Happily, ever afters.