Night dancer

Twirling swirling
Pirrhoutte of joy on
Daintiest toes
There she goes
On her special mirror
Floor
So petite
So wondrous
And in perfect time
She smiles a special glance for me
The music slowly comes
To stop as it always will
Nothing lasts forever
Now
I stop and think of her
It’s my mums old music box I see
My ballerina she sometimes stirs
I shut the lid
The time is now
To go to sleep in
Dreams
And perfect simple harmony
I know my music box is filled
With music Rings and necklaces
And memories of one who gave to me
My music box dancer
She will always smile and dance
For me

Reviews

[Avia]

The poem beautifully and slowly paints the picture for us to see. I saw the dancer, I heard the quiet tune. Enchanting!

[emmajoy]

Read this twice and found an erratic but clever meter to your phrases. Perhaps a gent;eel dance of your own> There's a dreamy touch to it as if when you watch and hear your little ballerina, she takes you into her world.. maybe. One thing.. you say the musical box is your mother's then say it's yours.. Have i mistaken your intention.. missed something?

Such a delightful read, almost hypnotic in parts!.

[Done]

What a sweet memory this is. I loved it. I was pulled in and could almost see the person looking at it lovingly and being brought to an earlier each of their life. Its funny how some things capture whole areas of our past and awake a whole slew of memories such as this tiny dancer on a music box. Well done Julie. I really liked this.

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Thankyou for your heartfelt review