She sat herself down, on her toes, knees bent,
Settled in her favourite position,
Her thighs aches with resent,
As she exercised long forgotten muscles.
She had neither put in the energy, nor the effort,
The determination that the art required,
She had let it go, long forgotten,
An art she only remembered now.
And yet, the muscles remembered what the mind had long forgotten,
With a grace that almost took her breath,
She stopped thinking through the steps,
Letting her muscle memory take over.
And once given, there was no taking back,
There was no more thinking,
No more worrying,
And no more pain at all.
All that remained was the love,
The love for the art, and,
The love for the movement,
And the love for letting.
As she finally came to a stop, her body caught up,
She felt the pain in her thighs again,
And her breath remained staggered.
A smile grew on her face, of its own accord,
She had forgotten the love she had shared once,
The love she shared with the art!