Our Tiny Ballerina
In a little rosewood box
Of aged, deep patina
Lay asleep in velvet there,
A tiny ballerina.
When the box was opened
We all sat there entranced,
When mother turned the hidden key
Our ballerina danced.
She did little pirouettes
As music filled the air,
Wide eyed with wonderment
Beaming, how we stared.
When the music ended
The ballerina bowed,
"Mother turn the key again"
We all cried aloud.
Then once again she danced
How we loved her so.
I miss those days with mother,
So many years ago.
Entry for
LATE DECEMBER 2018,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,
UP TO A MAX OF 20 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
16/12/18
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