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Created on: May 09, 2010
On goes the tutu,
frilly and pink.
Followed by the points shoes,
the silk ribbons tied tight.
Next is the hair,
tied tight in a bun.
Then the tiara,
all glitter and gold.
The make- up and bobby pins,
the tights and the smiles.
She's so mature and beautiful,
I am so proud to say.
"Thanks mum," she says
as she's called to stage.
The music plays and she pirouettes on stage.
I love her, I do,
my little five year old.
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Poetry: Dancer
Ballet Dancer
Across the bar she lifts
her leg, straight and stiff
as a frozen tree branch.
In the dance studio
Does our journey seem,
As if we are,
Naïve students in a ballet class of life?
Constantly seeking to balance
Emotions and
She flitted out onto the stage.
Her feather costume pearly sage.
Her steps were delicate and light.
Much like an eagle,
“The Vernal Dancer”
A fair haired youth preps for her performance
Wearing a gown of flowers about to bloom
She
Tell me grandmother if you had the chance
Would you have been a ballerina and learned to dance
And the granddaughter dressed
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