Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Ballerina

Pink slippers twirl on and on,
While the woodpecker brainstorms
a morning hymn,
Daylight lifts her shoulders
past the dawn,
The ballerina has been drilling all night,
She flaunts her skirts like whirl pools
So fast and bright,
The ballerina spins on tips
Of a carnation,
She triumphs on her nimble toes,
The day fixes his eyes
in the mist fragile music,
The backstage doze off in the shadow,
There is no sound, no Africa next door,
Just the pauses for breath
And roses drifting
with a hiss to the floor.

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