The glitz, the glamour

it’s all so enticing

spirals of parading ballerinas

sparkling with the melody of a song 

only I can’t hear.

Instead, drums beat louder in & out of my head

and I follow suit

swaying & sashaying the way I think they do.

The vibe, the verve

it’s all I want to find

so I can join the line 

of belonging & moving in time

and not be left behind.

But I am doing the conga 

while all the world gleams & glistens 

with a flow only I don’t know.

And it’s in the mirror, the mask

all I have to hold onto

if I can’t find the spotlight

maybe I’ll join the chorus line

or take a seat stage-side.

Because when larks of my spirit

flutter their wings, vibrations stir

under teased strings, I alone bring.

A ball, a beauty

it’s all a private party

easier to cast a masquerade

than to be on the sidelines 

of life’s parade.

It’s time, though, to follow the drum kick—

the beat of those wings where the weary heart

rejoices in turning tables to a juniper breeze.