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