On the Way To the Ballet
The old ladies
march onto the elevator,
steadied by their canes,
each a shrunken frailty
wrapping an unending soul--
they are going to watch
young people dance
their dances of grace
and beauty, while they recall
their own beauty long dissolved
in the acid of time....
Yet, they are happy--
I even joke with them
as I lean on my own cane:
'Come Ladies! Let's have a
foot race!" They all laugh,
as the young girls within
their tattered frames flirt
with the potent young man
hiding behind a time-marked mask...
for a moment we all feel a jolt
of that spark we call life.
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