They are the only ones that know me. I am the only one who uses them. Two dainty slippers with worn out soles and light pink canvas. Two that should be replaced but are still here. Two full of memories and dust from years past. From the stage, they seem ragged, but replacing them would be a sin.
Their elegance is powerful. They make ballet look easy. They float up and they float down while captivating the audience with their simple grace and pouncing with power on the dirty stage floor. This is their job.
Let one performance go on without them, I would plummet to the floor during a pirouette or stumble before the petit allegro like an amateur. Clap, clap, clap the crowd applauds. They bow.
When I am too drowsy or too stiff to dance again, when I need to rest my aching feet, then I look at these slippers. When there is no more canvas left on these dainty shoes, they still fly high. Two full of holes and love. Two who mean the world to me. Two whose memories will never fade.