Is It Love? (Ask Me in December)

Grace, the MFC, used to be a dancer until her mom died when she was younger (I'm thinking pre-teen, early teens). When her mom was buried, Grace buried her dancing dreams with her mom, feeling like she couldn't dance without her mom. Years pass and Grace meets Dylan, the MMC, who sparks the dream in her again, along with what feels like love.

For a moment, Grace sees the young girl in herself who loved to dance. Her younger self only has one big question - is what Grace feeling love? Though Grace fantasizes about a future with Dylan, she tells her younger self to be patient, and to test to see if her feelings are real or if they will disappear at the first sign of trouble.

This lyrical poem is simply this: Grace's conversation with her younger self while dealing with her new feelings toward Dylan.

**********

I haven’t seen you in a while -

pink tulle tutu and a pretty smile.

You used to dream as you spun around

until the storm came and let that part of me drown.

*

I sat on this bench by chance.

Now once again, I’m dreaming to dance;

my hand in his hand,

pulling me close till we’re on the sand.

*

I don’t want to dance alone,

to this melody in my bones.

*

Is it love?

*

Ask me in December,

when the nights are getting colder,

and I can’t feel my fingertips

gripping his shoulders,

as we dance for what feels like forever.

Go on and ask me then

if this is love.

*

The idea of it has got me giggling,

just like you used to do even if it was raining.

To the mountaintops, I want to drive

and scream out loud that you're still alive.

*

But I’m feeling wary,

because this is scary.

Last time you had a partner, she went away,

and by her grave, I thought you would stay.

*

But I don’t want to dance alone,

to this melody in my bones.

*

Is it love?

*

Ask me in December,

when the nights are getting colder,

and I can’t feel my fingertips

gripping his shoulders,

as we dance for what feels like forever.

Go on and ask me then

if this is love.

*

Hopefully,

snowflakes won’t be the only thing

pirouetting.

My heart can’t stop racing

and I can’t stop thinking

of him.

*

Is it love?

*

Ask me in December,

when the nights are getting colder,

and I can’t feel my fingertips

gripping his shoulders,

as we dance for what feels like forever.

Go on and ask me then

if this is love.

**********

Word Count: 286 words (according to Word)

I'm taking this time to thank Babs Iverson, because I have been struggling with figuring out the storyline for this project. Once I saw this, a switch flipped and things started flowing. Now, I have a nice chunk of the story figured out. So, thank you Babs and congrats on your Vocal anniversary.