Poem By Daphne Grant
Round and round the dresses swirling
Arms now waving, as the scene mind
fed only begins to fulfil a dream
Tchaikovski planted there.
The Waltz of the flowers,
The music rises in happy expectation
The crescendo loudly crashes,
The dance is over.
The ballroom clears,
I am back in my living room.
The swirling dervish.
From remembered experience of playing Tchaikovski at My London Road Flat