The Ballerina
She dances inside where no one else can see
she knows she is free, her smile, it shows.
To silent strings, an unknown melody
my love moves the rhythm to the chorus she knows.
I come here often to see her dance
gliding across parquet of gold.
Virgin lace flows, her smile, it grows
pulsing, confusing, both warm and cold.
A woman I see, a child I hear
passion and softness blend without words.
She yearns to be held
she cries to be heard.
Retreating from the darkness
and the brightness deep within
her steps, they will follow
'til she dances for me again.
Copyright ©2008 James Fletcher
