Jazz shoes

Music is all they hear
Blisters is all they fear
With worn out faces
The lights shinned centre stage
The music flowered as she opened up and blossomed.
When she dance I feel as though I’m swept of my feet.
The sweat runs down like salty tears from never ending pain.
When she dances it’s like the first day of spring.
Bird tweeting and trees swishing.
Other shoes look like they’re about to shrivel up in comparison.
Sweet memories treaded memories.
So many memories are equivalent to every tear drop of rain water.
Flashbacks of dreaded memories give me cold shivers down my back.
She is my love.
Jazz shoes.