A pointe in life to remember

I gaze at my beloved pointe shoes,
Well used to say the least.
My fingers dance upon the faded satin ribbon as memories flood my head.
I remember the first time I wore them,
I glanced at the thin mirror, amazed at my own reflection.
The numb tingling in my toes was nothing like I’d imagined.
As my fingertips graze the frayed edges of the block,
I smell the faint scent of dusty dancefloors.
The sound of endless pirouettes fills my head.
And the numbness returns to my toes, this time reaching my entire body.
I try to deny the urge to dance again
I manage to resist.
I continue to remember the first time I took the stage.
The spotlight fell on me and light bounced off my heavily sequinned tutu.
I spot the faint line of lipstick
Only a small blemish
But when the red stain first appeared, it was a catastrophe.
Because I thought that my beloved pointe shoes were ruined.
Little did I know that slight blemish could hold such fond memories
A pointe in life to remember indeed.