Pointed toes filled with her dreams
flee across a sparse stage,
a piper to a wave
She sculpts her story with her eyes
Intent on the perfect alignment,
of elongated elegant limbs
that stir easy as a light breeze
Her invisible walls are for scrying
not to see the future,
but to engage in the moment,
to feel,
her heart held with delicate fingers
flitting as a silent leaf
falling
In pale pink
crimson
and ruby
finding it’s place to rest
gathered in her arms
In stillness,
She waits to hear
the crashing wave of returned love,
deserving of an October
that softly caresses a maple
leaving it bare of all it’s passion,
to stand in perfect alignment
simple and lovely
INDEED, THE SCURRYING, THE INTENSE PREPARATION TO EXHIBIT PERFECTION IN EVERY WAY, WITH EVERY MOVEMENT...HOLDING ON TIGHTLY TO THAT EXQUISITE LEAF OF HOPE THAT CARRIES THE REWARD OF EVERY EFFORT AND SACRIFICE, ONCE SO FAR OUT OF REACH...CLOSER, AND NOW...MOMENTS AWAY! A FINE, ENJOYABLE WORK, MY FRIEND. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...HIS+INSPIRATIONS
Every young girl probably perceives herself as a ballerina until the winds and chill of October tell her she's no longer that perfect.
Ironically, I'm in a Zoom session on aging with paralysis. The leader is a former ballerina in her 70s who had her dance career cut short when she was paralyzed. Amazingly, still exudes the confidence and beauty of her self Image and counsels young women in the field, still.
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Ironically, I'm in a Zoom session on aging with paralysis. The leader is a former ballerina in her 70s who had her dance career cut short when she was paralyzed. Amazingly, still exudes the confidence and beauty of her self Image and counsels young women in the field, still.
Ron