Dance of the Looking Glass

The bodies dancing near the stage

Are aged and bent

Misshapen form

But their smiles are wide

And hips are free

Despite eyes that won’t trouble

To hide their scorn

So many moons from when

These dancers were born

And ridicule is a young man’s game

I sit, in the middle,

An observer now

And wonder who should own this shame

I trim the dancers in my mind

Smooth out skin

Taking off the years

I look at them through

This looking glass

And I see nothing to scorn

Or fear

There’s beauty in the vibrant dance

Smiles are as lovely,

Love as true

I sit between youth and age

Belonging to neither

Neither old nor new

And think, only a moment,

What I should do

Judge on the sidelines

While they enjoy the dance

Or join in the revel

Despite judging eyes

My feet tap to the music

As I look ‘round the room

Leaving behind the judgment, I rise

Hips find the rhythm

Arms reach toward the skies.