An Ode to the "Unloved" Ones

Here’s to the unloved ones.

The bare-fingered, unkissed ones.

The ones who simply

twirl with a lonesome grace.

Here’s to the ones who take

pride in their solo stride.

In the swing of their hips

and the crease of their brow.

They command the crowd

but are not fancied with applause.

They do not care to take a bow,

they only wish to be.

Here’s to the intangible ones,

nebulous beings who

saunter into the moonlight.

No one knows who they are,

no one knows what they want,

only that they are transcendent.

Here’s to the ones who search

within themselves

for the light they seek.

Here’s to the brightness they emit.

Here’s to the ones

who shatter mirrors,

throw books and let tears stream in

floods down their cheeks.

Here’s to the ones

whose eyes are always lit,

whose lips are always curled,

whose melodic laughter is perpetual.

Here’s to the ones who are

somewhere

in between.

They may wonder in the night

why their hips are untouched,

their toes uncurled,

but love the freeness of their

bodies,

the bend of their fingers,

the bounce in their hair.

Here’s to the “unloved” ones.