MY PRIVATE BALLERINA

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

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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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7 Responses to MY PRIVATE BALLERINA

  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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