So She Dances...

Sidenote: This is obviousy a rough-rough sketch. (2nd "personal poem" as Mr. Long would say.)

So She Dances

The incandescent light of the crescent moon shines brightly through an open window, revealing the ballerina waiting patiently for her cue. As the velvet curtains lift, she leaps bravely into the air onto center stage capturing everyone’s attention. The wings strapped tightly to her frail arms seem to carry her gracefully through the air with each pirouette. No one speaks, not even a whisper. When the performance comes to a close, the once mesmerized audience finally brakes from its trance and explodes with applause. Roses fly through the air landing at her feet as she gracefully bows her head.     

Before her dressing-room mirror she sits, carefully removing the paint from her face which hides a familiar truth. She turns her head slowly towards the light streaming through the broken window and dreams of flying away. But instead, she slips back into her used and tattered clothes and heads for the exit.

As she enters the bar, she finds him slumped over the counter, staring blankly at an empty cup. His glazed eyes perused her bruised and broken face for just a brief moment. Even so, with tender care she hoists him from off the wooden stool, and leads him to the door. The stench of his breath seems almost comforting—so familiar. And as they stagger through the streets his drunken slurs slowly form into words. “How was the movie?” he asks. She pauses to keep her voice from shaking, “It was good dad, it was really good.”

Sidenote: Inspiration came from Josh Groban's "So she dances" >my favorite song of his.< And obviously I haven't broken it up into poem form yet. Hah. I'm such a slacker.