The Old Sprite

The Old Sprite

Accompanied by my imaginative theatrics, the story spread fast and consistently. My immediate and extended family, ever so eager and ready, would confirm that hearsay voluntarily: I was a dancer with a sprite’s flair, that I would improvise ecstatically. Whether over a real or an imagined tune, I would deliver my role as the honor guest of a yet-unheard beat. Leaving every loved one in awe, giving each an extraordinary treat.

Dance steps have always known how to find in me a most loyal companion. I, after all, had the dedication as long as I received undivided attention.

Ample laughter from an adoring audience was always alive. Without me on that imaginary stage, not even a single cadence had a chance to thrive.

In later years, that young bliss came back to me. On a day when I had concluded it was long dead. Hence, I submitted to the magic of the music in my head. However, I did so in disguise. For, my Self was still afraid to re-appear. The melodic joys, thus, ceased to be.

© hülya n. yılmaz, 3.15.2020

~ ~ ~
From my upcoming new book of prose poetry, Letter-Poems from a Beloved


Filed under Reflections

3 responses to “The Old Sprite

  1. Your up coming book sounds like a fun book in the making…
    In the meantime, a few lines from one of the poems I’ve written on dancing, a passion that was always part of my life.This is the kind that has you tapping to the music…

    “ Upstairs Dancer ”
    – a devil I can tell –

    I’d know the music
    Just by listening
    To the patter
    On the floor upstairs,
    And the pulse
    That cajoles her feet
    To a mystifying beat,
    For she capers
    Like it matters
    To a dancer,
    With melodic flair…
    Happy new book launching…


  2. a beautiful account . . . dance on . . . looking forward to the book

    Liked by 1 person

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