Enchantingly, the ballerina
gracefully within the stillness and fragility
of hand-blown glass. Delicate, the shape
and form and lines that flowed so glowingly
within the light. He gently ran his fingertips
almost touching this, her crystal form -
his eyes alight beholding this pure vision
of perfection lightly captured in
one artist’s fill of sweet imagination.
His hands encircled her, as
he lifted her from off the shelf; and yet alas,
she seemed to shatter - then, just when
he set her on the counter where
mere articles are bought and sold –
thinking that perhaps her beauty
might have been undone
by the power of possessive attitudes.
Hand, oh hand of all creation, how cruel
sometimes, destructive tendencies
can seem to be. Yet look again, my friend
for just beyond your wandering,
she whirls and spins
atop a music box that never ends...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .