Dancing, While Growing Up

You start ballet in a week,

Your attention I hope to always seek.

Pink tights and dainty ballet shoes,

watching you get older sometimes gives me the blues.

I'm sure you'll make lots of friends because you're outgoing,

or maybe I just have an intuitive way of "just knowing."

Pretty ribbons and elegant hands all poised and ready,

for this day I hoped, as you stand there steady.

Your mannerisms, all to be admired,

to be more like you, I wish I could have transpired.

Smiling and flowing with the music,

your motions are gentle and fluid.

First position, second position, now third,

your arms are careful like those of a little bird.

Giving you space,

giving you grace,

for you to be the dancer that you will become,

as I sit back, watching, quietly I hum.