My not-dancing feet:

This dance of
too much
not enough
and just right
keeps me stumbling.
Perhaps I was born with feet made for moving forward
and not for dancing.
with arms shaped for making, building, holding together
and not for swinging, twirling embraces.
my lips more suited for laughing and smiling
than perhaps kisses and knowing grins.

But my heart-
my heart wants to do all of those things
this heart that is always
too much
not enough
and never
just right.