I perform routines in front of judges, waiting to be praised for my talent.
My stage is a square, spring floor, and a 4 inch beam, and two parallel bars, and a vault table.
All I need is my leotard, grips, and ambition to score big.
I’ll dance across the floor, leaping, turning, flipping through my routine, knowing all eyes are on me as I own the floor.
Sprinting down the runway, jumping off the springboard, flying through the air, and flashing a smile at the judge, I stick my landing on vault.
I swing around the bar, jumping from high bar to low bar, covering myself with chalk and pride.
The beam welcomes me, but my fears hold me back, as I