DEATH OF THE DANCER

 

 

A lone maiden stands by the door,
Her bare feet on the marble floor
A silk gown draped over her slender frame,
Her voice sweet and clear as she calls my name.
Slowly, as if in a trance,
I move towards her as she begins to dance.
She dances with beauty, full of grace,
A tender smile on her unblemished face,
The high, broad forehead, the exotic brows,
The graceful slope of her beautiful nose
Her cherry lips curved into a smile,
Her entire face seems to beguile.
Her slender nape, so white and soft,
She dances as though she's flying aloft,
Her raven black hair tumbling down to flow,
Down her bare back, it seems to glow
With a beauty never before seen,
In man's worldly realm.
Her long, slender legs gracefully twirl,
Around the room she seems to whirl,
But her breathing grows laboured as she waltzes by,
Her heart is pounding as she heaves a sigh.
Slowly, gracefully, she tumbles down,
Her luxurious hair acting as her crown.
She sinks to the floor, her violet eyes wide,
Her slender hands by her side.
Her thick black lashes flutter once,
She knows in her heart that she's danced her last dance…
Her beseeching eyes seek my frightened ones,
To her side I quickly run.
I take her hand and cradle it in mine,
It seems so delicate, so exquisite and fine.
She smiles and turns her gaze above,
My goddess of beauty, my goddess of love.
Thousands of angels with hair of gold,
Their shining clothes hang in folds.
Their thunderous voices fill the hall,
All this and more my loved one saw.
She ascended slowly to their embrace,
I take a last look at her glowing face.
And in splendour fitting to her own,
She rises and leaves me alone.
Alone in a dark, cold room,
Where dark shadows around me loom.


 

Gayle --Age 11

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