10.04.2012

performer

She danced in the afternoon sunlight, on tiptoes, in slow circles to the delicate notes drifting from the small carved  music box. Across a sea of broken glass she moved gracefully, the sun catching in glints against each shiny surface and sharp edge. Watching her dark lashes closed against Georgia sun-ripened cheeks, there was no evidence of the jagged stage on which she performed.

9 comments:

Cressida de Nova said...

Ha ,I know this dance. Takes years of practice.

Brian Miller said...

mmm....the jagged stage...many times we cant see that unless we look really close...i think there is something to be said though of her not letting it keep her from dancing...

awakenedwords said...

much could be read in to this...I keep seeing the music box my sister had growing up; when opened a ballerina twirled on a mirror...now broken?

Anna Montgomery said...

You really convey a lot in a compact space, a gem with a pulled pin. You demonstrate well the incorporation of poetic sensibility and brevity into prose form. Wonderful!

Kristina said...

I like this. I like it even more after I read the first comment on here and thought of another possibility (of meaning). Very nice.

Charity said...

It does.
But as Brian pointed out....she continues to dance.

Charity said...

Poignant reflections Anna. Thank you!

Charity said...

That's what I enjoy about sharing my poetry through this blog, and with the dVerse community. See the last post for reflections on the life the visitors bring to my work.

jane hewey said...

a lovely story wrapped in juxtaposition. beautiful.