The Forgotten Ballet
A stuttering rhythm
A broken pointe shoe
The last notes of a music box
A bodice with a broken strap
Netted skirts, all ripped into pieces
Dust and rosin cover everything
The lights around the mirror flicker on and off again
An open lipstick crumbles
A dried rose starts to mold
These are the remnants Of the Forgotten Ballet
They echo and cry
They beg to be free
It’s long been abandoned
The Forgotten Ballet
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
The Forgotten Ballet, which
was posted on Jan 22, 2012 by
Sarianetta.
This is a collaborative poem.
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