sometimes

i am floating,

with the cottonball clouds,

flying beside the birds,

swimming the backstroke

in the humidified air,

listening to scales of music

rotate in my head,

like the ballerina who

dances when (her home),

my childhood jewelry box

cover is lifted, exposing her

to the giant world.

sometimes i am that

tiny, pink plastic ballerina,

dancing for someone else,

controlled by a metal wind-up piece.

i perform my tricks

for another child,

and get bored.

the cover is

opened and closed

again and again

day and night

dark and light,

it's all a blur.

so i transform into my own self,

open the jewelry box,

and let someone else

dance for me.