Sea

Bare feet tint the sand,
the gulls shriek,
as waves reach a hurried hand.
What waves bring to the shore,
is but a promise,
to what is at the sea's core.
What lies below,
the moaning ships?
The setting sun holds the secret,
for into the water it dips.

Ballet Storyteller

I walked up the steps, the fragile and pure evening sun playing on my back. My steps were the only noises echoing in a place usually bursting with life. As I peered around the corner I noted that the building was more full when it was empty. I tried a door and fell surprised as my fingers slid easily. I walked through the unlocked door and into a barren room. The sun falling delicately on the ground and the shadows ominously dormant. I cut across the room, my feet making staggeringly loud blows across the floor. The room was a wonderland. Stuffed with costumes and masks as if only to impress me. Colors danced on shelves and textures littered the floor. I ran my fingers threw the racks and ran the building rigid. I leaped and laughed and ran and danced and didn't care who watched. This place was a universe- with stories being told. Masks with feathers and branches with silver. Skirts that flowed and swords that gleamed. Stories that had and hadn't been told lay open in the shelves. Catch me, call me, mock me, watch me- storyteller I may be.