I do not know?
The Beach of Promises
Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,
strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.
Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,
walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.
Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,
lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,
my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,
wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
old post from last year.....
"Music Maestro," the conductor turns-
The curtain rises and the ballet begins,
People sit on the edge of their seats-
Tasting the sweetness of the violins-
Dancers make not a single sound,
As their slippers touch the stage,
The audience, still, gazing forward,
Quite intimately engaged-
The music pitch is soft, then loud,
Creating a somber mood,
With cabrioles, jetes, arabesques, plies,
An ambiance of mystery, the dancers all exude.
Painting a captivating canvas,
Gracefully moving, white sylph-like silhouettes,
The "Prima Ballerina Assoluta" twirls,
Executing perfect en-point pirouettes-
This ballet tells the story,
Of how a peasant girl, from a broken heart, dies,
Her last dance - a spectacular performance,
Brings tears to the audience's eyes.
Nearing its dramatic ending,
Dancers complete their last entrechats,
Spellbinding, flawlessly done,
A standing ovation for them all-
The music stops - the Maestro takes a bow,
The curtain lifts, then falls,
The applause of the audience demands,
A number of curtain calls-
Ballerinas retreat backstage to celebrate,
Their "Prima's" last dance was today,
Inside, the dancers weep softly,
Outside, people praise the ballet-
Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2015