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The ballerina


The flutter of her fingers
Causes phosphorescent glow.
A delicate little wrist,
Expressing more than I’ll ever know.

A spray of tulle, a rosebud mouth,
The arch of satin foot en pointe.
She turns, a blur, a squeaky board,
Bewitching from my vantage point.

Her dance is rhythmic, ‘round the floor,
I’m in a trance, my eyes are glued.
Sugar Plum fairies, swans and sylphs,
The supernatural worlds intrude.

And yet the shadows steal into
The fairy tales, her dreamlike smile.
Nefarious kings, a wounded heart,
The mantle of grief, she does beguile.

I feel a lump within my throat,
A heat that’s rising, springing tears.
She is so lovely, feminine,
She vanishes almost all of my fears.

I am transported, stolen away,
The old piano soothingly sings.
My body rocks, my hips, they sway,
I’m soaring on magnificent wings.

Why is the world so whimsical
When I see her on that stage?
Memories triggered, of my youth
And when I hear the music played?

I am a nymph, I can ascend,
I flee this realm on gossamer kites.
My body lithe, my spirits bright,
As I scale the highest of heights.

Sometimes I wish to be that girl
Of fifteen once again.
I close my eyes and think of her,
How cherished she remains.

If you would like to see a picture book version of this poem, please visit StoryJumper and click on this link.

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