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The Ballet

Merry and graceful, the figures appeared on her screen
To Arabian music and dances from Russia and Spain
Before sleep in her fantasy
Held high by the hands of Nijinsky, she sighed

Static and silent, the dancers tableau on her page
But the movement she pictured belied the ten years of her age
The ballet was coming to town
She asked her mother and father to take her

But her mother was playing bingo that night
Her father was having some beers
They told her to stay in and watch TV
Forget her high ideas
Leaving her near to tears

So after they'd gone she waited an hour or more
Put on her coat and slipped silently out of the door
Caught a bus to the big theatre
Waited outside till she heard the last applause

The stage door suddenly opened
And then slowly into the night
Stepped sixteen ballerinas
In robes of shimmering white
Such a strange and beautiful sight

On the tips of their toes they danced in a circle around
And as she pirouetted her tiny feet made no sound
All too soon they had drifted away
And the policeman found her asleep on the pavement next day

And when she got home she was sent to her room
Where she sat and remembered a dream that had gone too soon

Learn more about this author, Pete Willow.
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