Where I Come Alive

Once I read a book where one of the people said, 
"I bet that everyone in the world has a place where all of their senses come alive."
This keeps me awake at night,
Because I don't.
I don't have one thing that makes me come alive. 
I'm like a crayon box,
So many beautiful colors:
Midnight blue, royal purple, lime green,
But they're all so different. 
I come alive at a dance studio.
As soon as you open the door, I can feel that it's a space where people
Jump and leap and their 
Bodies can't stop moving.
I can smell it, and I can feel it on my bare feet
On the floor where the tape is peeling up.
And when I start dancing, I can't stop.
I can't feel anything else. When I leap,
I'm transported. 
I come alive at an ice rink.
I love the way the cold air feels around me and
Inside me,
And I love stepping onto the ice and just smiling,
So big and wide. 
I come alive at a theater.
It's so amazing to me it's almost scary,
How big the stage and the lights are,
And being on it just makes me feel
Inspired.
I come alive when I step outside. 
Whether it's green and warm and sticky,
Or orange and brown and crinkly,
Or white and silver and silver and white,
Or green and green and rainy,
I immediately feel better.
I feel healed.
I feel healed in all of these places! And that's why I can't pick one place where I
"come alive."