©2011 by Deborah Scott Lightfoot
The ballerina twirls
With such silent joy
The sun has come out to play
To warm the wisps of hair
Left loose to fall
Down the back of her neck
What beauty, pink ribbons
Crisscrossed about her ankles
Barely blushed like her cheeks
As she spins to music only
She can hear
Cascading down from the heavens
To her uplifted arms
That envelop her with passionate moves
Escalating from pirouette to twirl
To twirl, to twirl
To twirl…
All rights reserved. ©2011 by Sara Fryd
