Picture from BBC Strictly Come Dancing Gallery
Sparkle, colour, music, lights,
spray-tanned flesh and fancy tights.
The briefest of costumes, fringes and beads,
stumbles and missed steps, perfect heel leads.
Old time ball gowns with layers of frills,
fleckels and voltas, botofogos and spills.
Tension, tears and tantrums.
Twists and turns and wardrobe malfunctions.
Fancy footwork, lifts and twirls.
Hunky men and long-legged girls.
The older one, the fat one, the clown,
the non-dancer who won’t be put down.
Graceful arms with hands like meat.
Pointed toes and the flattest feet.
The mismatched pair, or the perfect alliance,
Disaster versus breath-holding triumph.
Fearsome judges and beautiful hosts
Which one do we love the most?
Stomping the floor or flying around.
Out of all that, a champion is found.
Christmas comes and it’s all over
till next year, can’t wait for October –
for another cliché roller coaster.
Many dread the end of summer. We don’t because Autumn sees the start of our guilty pleasure, Strictly Come Dancing, (in US it’s called, Dancing with the Stars) which runs right up to Christmas. This is for OctPoWriPo Day 24 prompt Reality Check and Guilty Pleasures. Also linked at dVerse Poets’ Pub’s Open Link Night