Crimson Slippers
Opening the doors to
the old studio I find
A playful capriole
sprinted across my mind
Into a sashay and a glissade
I drifted back
I could hear the teachers
stick go tap.tap.tap
Once a prestigious ballet
school of great poise
Filled with music as our
slippers sounded with noise
The mirrors are cracked
and the floors dusty
Rain soaked wood left the
room smelling musty
The charm stayed behind
as if waiting for me
Spotlighting a ballerina to
The goddess of the sea
The young girl danced
flawlessly then took a bow
Then sashayed off the stage
without a moistened brow
An old battered piano
appeared across from me
Bearing red ballet shoes
like a crimson canopy
Charm embraced her while
honoring her memory
As I looked into the mirror
I saw that girl was me
Carole Cookie Arnold
2010
Copyright © Carole Cookie Arnold | Year Posted 2010
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