ballerina, ballet, lonely, dance
Photo by Ricardo Moura from Pexels.

 

Ballerina’s dance across the wallpaper that lines

Eleanor’s bedroom.

Every time she begins to close her eyes,

they move.

A pirouette,

a grande jeté,

a pas de bourree

around a stone fountain,

beneath the stars.

The dancers turn

and leap,

smiling and laughing.

Eleanor stumbles out of bed

and assumes first position.

The dancers don’t look.

She spins three times,

pushing for a fourth.

They don’t notice her stopping short.

“Hey!” She waves at them, waiting for them to watch.

But they laugh louder,

look only at each other,

and vanish.

****************************************************

Like this poem? Read more like it: http://www.wedbushwrite.com/carnival-dance/

Poetry

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *