Monday, June 15, 2015

Ballroom Slippers

Mudspattered and roadworn
they are still lovely.
The gold embroidery,
catching in the candleflicker
and the mossy grey leather
suple as beechbark,
are tarnished by the dust
of walking miles for this night.
Her skirts twitch up, floating
as she floats, finding her heartbeat
with the trilling of the oboe d’more
and the swell of strings.
She is not the most beautiful,
no belle of the ball,
not in a hand me down gown
and old slippers
but still she dances, and still she is


1 comment:

  1. The title made me think of the Twelve Dancing Princesses and then of Cinderella. I love the contrasts between what shouldn't be beautiful and what is beautiful anyways.