Floating

My hands flow up toward the sky while the tips of my toes on my left foot smooth the ground around me in a half circle. I arch forward then arch back, hands falling to my sides. Dancing. An art that is much more beautiful then words can explain. The grace and technique never fails to impress. When I dance, I feel like I'm lost in my world, where it's okay to be lost. Where I can be who I am and do what I want to do without failing to impress. Once the beautiful sounds of Bach or Debussy start, and the lights shine down on my winter snow skin, I feel the power and I begin. Flowing, with the music and never backing down. My body turns gracefully, almost perfectly. My hands slowly move in a motion so smooth, it's hard to take your eyes off. While my hands are above my head, I look up and play with the light between my fingers. How relaxing this dance is. Memorable. The music is slowing to an end. Next thing I know, I'm leaping across the stage, landing almost silently, and then I'm turning. Turning and turning. A low gasp escapes from my mouth, because now, I'm not turning... I'm floating.