LA BALLERINE

In her house of silence, she glides on an unlit stage. Her dreams have spun to satin cobwebs, dust motes that sequin her skirt and dance circles around her heart. Once, the ribbon beckoned her onto her toes, wound her like a music box and let her body spin. Now they lay in a tangle at her feet. The tulle she clutches is torn; loose threads spilling glittering memories. She holds tight, and she smiles. The spotlight may have dimmed but the warmth still lingers. In her house of silence, she glides on an unlit stage.