She sits on a tufted stool,

Facing away from the door,

A child’s book in hand.


Perched on the edge of their bed,

Enrapt as she reads,

The three year old grand-girl twins.


Her words transport them

To far away places

To tales of derring-do.


Of fairy princesses with golden hair,

Of kings and dragons and elves,

And of life in enchanted forests.


But standing there

I see a different scene

As time slips into the past.


The room begins to change,

Tchaikovsky fills my inner space.

Stravinsky, Lully and Ravel.


I see a world where oboes chase the fife.

A space defined by Ballon, En Cloche, En Dehors,

As legs flash beneath a tutu of lavender tulle.


She senses my presence

And turns toward me,

A knit brow, a quizzical look.


In answer to the unspoken question

I quickly reply,

“Nothing dear, I’m just watching you dance.”


An excerpt from “A Mixed Bag” and tribute to my wife, my own “ballerina.”

Rick Fontes

About rixlibris

Retired from child care photography after thirty years of coaxing smiles and wiping noses. Currently venting years of repressed fictional story lines via self-published novels. Married and still alive in a remote corner of Waller County, Texas.
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  1. OOOh! This is beautiful. I totally love it. I wonder if she knows your thoughts?

  2. rixlibris says:

    Thanks for the kind words. Knows my thoughts? Sometimes only too well.

  3. Pingback: Featured Posts # 70…Share Your Post Links. | a cooking pot and twistedtales

  4. Love the imagery Rick. Well done!

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