Childhood Memory

Dance class,

I never wanted to go.

Every time I went I’d say, “It’s my last.”

5-6-7-8,

Please would someone give me break.

Dance class,

I cried every time I went.

Coming home, talking to my parents, I tried to vent.

My dad always asked, “Do you know the moves?”

I’d stand up and actually know the groove.

Dance class,

I learned to love it.

Never could I split.