Waiting

waiting for the elevator
quiet stone building
high ceilings and marble floor
i love fine arts buildings
they remind me of my childhood
i used to dance in a building like that
twice a year for many years
in a grand performance which took
months of preparation
covered in glitter and make up
i would wait in nervous anticipation
in the belly of the building
in the electric dressing rooms with
dozens of little girls charged
with the same excitement
i would climb up and down the spiral staircase
peek onto the stage while other performed
butterflies turning over in my tummy
while others turned on the stage
i loved the wait
more than i loved to perform
once i got on the stage
time and space was lost
in a blur of color and lights
the dance danced me and
i was along for the ride
watching was better
watching was perfect
watching was waiting and
waiting was dreaming of love and applause
and colors and lights
dreaming was divine
maybe if i never got on the elevator
i never would have lost the dream
maybe i am still waiting for the elevator
to pick me up