Flying Around The Room

My delicate shoes lay quietly in my bag
The colour of cotton candy
The smell of hard work and determination
Lingers in their presence

Smooth satin edges
But with battered bruises all over
They have lost their shine
But not their importance
I feel a curved, hard wooden shell
But soft, skinny and flexible flesh

My toes meet the wooden end
As I squeeze my feet into
The tightly fitted shoes,
My feet and my shoes are the perfect match
Just the right size
Silk ribbons are tied around my ankles
Like a snake catching its prey

I slowly stand and move towards the barrè.
They support my feet as I pirouette
Flying around the room on my toes
I feel strong and proud

My shoes are used on Thursday afternoon
My feet are raw and chapped
I struggle through the night
But I never give up

I can hear the tapping
Of the toe box on the floorboards
The slight creaking when I walk
The ragged fabric on the bottom
All these imperfections
Make them special and unique