The Ballet

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.

Daphne Grant
March 2006
From remembered experience of playing Tchaikovski at My London Road Flat

by Daphne Grant

Comments (1)

You must have closed your eyes for a moment, to take in the beauty of the ballet. A treasured poem indeed, love it.--Melvina--