Mirror Dancer

Are you really good at some things?  Or do you just enjoy imagining that you are? This seventh grade writer happens to be a good dancer, even if it's only for an audience of one. What are you good at?  Write to us in the comments!

Mirror Dancer

 

Late afternoon --

The slow and weary time of my day

Like a broken watch with the soft tick melting weakly each time it sounds.

I open my bedroom door

With a creak and a squeak

And I feel the fuzzy pumpkin-orange carpet in between my toes.

I look at the books resting quietly on my shelf,

At my bed with the welcoming blankets

And smell my dinner cooking in the kitchen downstairs.

Hunger resides in my belly

As I flip the switch on my milk-chocolate-brown radio with a click. 

I listen to a DJ gossiping as I sit down to read.

But then I hear it:

The performers singing, yelling and calling out to me.

And music fills my ears like the refreshing bubbling soda I had at lunch.

I stand up and start to move to the ever-pulsing rhythm

The beat, beat, of percussion

And I see myself in the mirror

Graceful as a swan pirouetting amid its shimmering waters.

Me, a dancer on a dark, silent, and lonely stage

Caramelizing her competition.

But then, I hear a quiet knock

And then two

Louder and louder each time

Knock, knock, knock.

My mother opens the door to tell me that my dinner is ready,

And crimson-red is the face of the mirror dancer,

Swaying silently in the late afternoon.

by Julianne M.

Grade 7

artwork by Justin H.
Grade 7