She twirls by herself in the middle of the dance floor,
And people wonder if she is crazy, drunk, or what.
She sweats, the make-up is gone, and her wild hair is born.
And for many her beauty is gone, and the real face shows.
I see her freedom as she sways her hips, and moves her feet.
Most people cannot be truly free and insane until they age.
Some age and never find the freedom of being themselves.
This woman in the middle of the floor doesn’t need approval,
She has her own, that woman is me; I’m 30 years old.
People say your 30’s bring freedom, but I’ve always had freedom.
My mind belongs to me, and at the end, any choice is mine.
My years have simply brought me “the I, don’t, and care”.
Those who love me love me as I am.
They advise, and guide but I make my own change.
I care, they care, and others don’t care, it is that simple.
There are little things that make us feel alive.
I shall dance, and dance, until the last song plays,
And when that happens I will smile and twirl one last time,
Because even when the music stops, and Someone turns off the light,
I know I did as many little things I could to give life to my years.
Beatriz X (C) July 2013