The roller skates are just sitting there, empty, at my feet.
My friends roll past me, laughing. Are they mocking me?
The guy I like stops at my side, trying to coax me out on the floor.
But there I sit, on the sidelines, watching them all go by.
The room is full of shutter-bugs, just like me.
The projector beams out their shots for everyone to critique.
My pictures are as good as theirs, I think.
But what if they ask me a question and I have to speak?
I’m afraid of looking foolish, of embarrassing myself.
I avoid being silly; don’t think I can pull it off.
If someone asks me a question, my answer might disappoint.
In the end, though, who misses out? No one else.
Don’t worry about looking foolish, I tell myself: just do your thing.
I’ve displayed my pictures in town where everyone can see.
My dance shoes are too busy to gather much dust.
Life’s too short to be a wallflower; that’s my new decree.