Footloose,
Untethered,
Stolen.

Or if you believe such things,
Simply slipping through
Invisible portals,
Vanishing without warning.

Worn out steps of dancing feet.
Previously confident ,
Across the path of practice,
Passages of musical time
Indefinitely suspended.

Once loved evidence of  
Masterful pointes and whirling pirouettes,
Retired by inevitable exhaustion.

Hiding in plain sight,
Consumed by the greengrass cloak
Of enigmatic loss,
This mystery of misplacement
Happens to us all.

Like the consequence of stolen moments,
Disrupting the order of things,
It produces a void,
And a haunted memory of things
That can never be replaced.