Dust

I miss scurrying from chemistry class to history class
Hoping to make it there before the bell gives its call 
And the test tubes filled with unknown salts and distilled water
And the muddled arrangement of textbooks on the shelf in math class
And the congested main hallway
Where there is always a traffic jam at the end of the day
As if it is a competition for who can leave school the fastest

I miss the faces
And the smiles that warmed me like a fuzzy coat
Throughout the bitter winter
And the morning laughs
When most of us so sleep-deprived
That we can barely formulate sentences
They are my life vests
That keep me afloat in the tempestuous waters of high school 

I miss the smell of pointe shoes
And choreography on Saturdays
And the sweat forming perfect little beads on my forehead
And the annoying tear in my tights
That forms after falling out of a pirouette and sliding
From one end of the studio to the other end
And the fouette turns
Spinning until I feel like I am going to pass out

I miss the school bus
I miss the car drive to dance
I miss the joy of Friday
And the misery of Monday
I miss the hugs of my friends
I miss all those things
That I never thought would get snatched from my hands
And crushed into dust
And blown away