My African-Russian Ballerina by K. (Francee` Bouvenir) McSpadden |
Oh my goodness, my little girl is grown up. The first day she began her ballet lessons, I knew she’d show the world her talents. After months of training her toes formed into a shape of two inch high heels as I saw her grab the fence rail. Then several years went by and she became more comfortable dancing on her toes without the feeling of discomfort. Oh how she has grown in doing her steps as she was disciplined like a soldier, and while standing in a position as though she were a mannequin in a department store window. After many practices to be perfect, she swirled, jumped and later spun as fast as she could on her toes, but at her first performance she impresses me along with others, their dance combination of swirls and jumps with their legs out as though they’re an airplane in the sky. Go on girls, and you go on my Russian African ballerina. My baby who I watched grow up on the dance floor. I watched her dance as she trained; I watched her concentrate as she danced, and I watch her as she shines dancing into the spotlight. So dance girl, dance, never stop, show them what your mama made and what you create by jumping and stumping that dance floor. |
Copyright by
K. (Francee` Bouvenir) McSpadden
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