The Red Shoes

As I sat in my room watching the heavy snow fall I thought about the shoes. The red shoes that were sitting in the shop down the street just waiting for me, waiting to be worn. If I had bought them I think I would have been ready for anything. I would have been dressed from head to toe with my crown and red shoes dancing the night away. With the fluff of my skirt, I would rise as the curtains opened. I would spin, hop, leap, and twirl across the stage. Each leap was filled with passion and each turn was perfected after hours of practice. With the sound of the shoes swiftly touching the floor, I would dance my heart out. At my final bow, applauses and chants would be heard. I would be given a bouquet of red flowers, the same shade as my shoes. As I sat back down into reality, I realized I didn’t buy the red shoes on the shelf, but maybe someday.

I.S.

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