He Was a Dancer

Soft wet rain drops fall onto my cheeks, wetting them as a tear would when it slips out of my eyes. The sky is dark yet welcoming, the breeze is cold but warm. The rain is gathering on the back of my neck as I stand in my wet sneakers. I take a few steps in the direction I had just come from, feeling the water squish between my toes. I suddenly stop and ask myself, "why am I running? You have no where to go you silly girl." Silly girl, that's all I am to them. So why not run away? Who cares where I go? As I fight this battle in my head I am taking more sloppy wet steps back toward the hell that is my life.

I look down at my shoes, my favorite pair of checkered van sneakers, as I glance up from my ruined shoes I see the most beautiful sight. A horse is standing there all alone in the rain. I am mesmerized my him. His long lean legs are running and prancing so gracefully. It looks as if he is dancing. Twirling in circles and raring back to a beat all his own. I long to be as free and graceful as he. I watch him a bit longer dreading the walk back but knowing deep down I have no choice. I am not a beautiful and graceful horse. I am just me a lanky and awkward klutz no one even noticed was gone.

I walk in the front door hearing my slushy sneakers sqeek on the floor wanting someone to notice me. The television is on and the door down the hall is shut, shutting everything out with it. I all of a sudden feel cold, I realize my clothes are drenched from the rain. I shut my door and lay on the cold floor and look up at the white cealing. I close my eyes and see again that gorgeous horse dancing in the rain wanting to feel as free and strong as he appeared to be.