Sitting on the frosted curb,
Left with a sprinkle of premature December snow,
Whilst delicately seperating my festive mince pie,
Like breaking bread in church,
Preparing bite size portions,
In order to waste not,
And leave not,
A telling trail of crumbs and succulent fruit.
Tis Yuletide once more!
2017 has passed with the lightening speed of a Polaroid camera flash,
Had me Waltzing around the ballroom,
Frantically changing style,
The purposeful march of the Tango,
The military Quick Step,
The merriment of Jive,
Freestyle contemporary,
Dirty Meringue,
Repetative schottische,
The Rumba in my feet,
The Samba in my mind,
Picking up pace,
And then falling behind,
The manic Quick Step,
And monotonous Two Step,
Frozen in the Spotlight,
And dancing in the rain,
All in twelve months,
My very own,
“Marathon ’33” endurance test,
Bewildered at how I ended up in this wretched contest!?
Competing with my past,
Struggling in the present,
Unenthusiastic about the future,
Fatigue engulfing both my body and mind,
Whilst the other contendors race ahead,
Leaving me behind.
Finally,
I sit,
I notice that my bruised and swollen feet,
Pang in tune with the beat of my mirroring heart,
My exterior,
In this delicate moment,
Where I have stolen a moment,
To stop,
Paints a picture of a tired,
Yet recovering soul,
But let it fool you not,
As I am still stuck down the rabbit hole,
It is here when I decide whether I want to crawl out,
And I do,
Without a shadow of a doubt,
But tis a complicated process,
I cannot merely scream and shout,
Rely fully on others to get me out,
But your love,
Support,
Empathy,
Consideration,
Patience,
And understanding,
Would help the log fire of my being,
Not fully burn out,
Give me the motivation to get up,
And keep dancing it out,
Demanding change,
As I dance free of the chains,
That have held me captive this 2017.