The old ballerina

On blistered, swollen feet,
She twirls,
Gracefully as always,
No trace of pain,
Not even fatigue,
Despite the ache,
The pirouette creates,
She dances on,
In the mirrors,
There are many,
As she remembers in her head,
From days long gone,
Although she is but one,
Dreaming of the music in her head,
She lets it flow,
To her feet,
And imagines the applause,
Of yesterday when they danced,
Together always,
Never apart,
The swan princess and her prince,
In glittering white feathers,
They soared on stage,
And in their hearts,
The silent worn slippers,
Watch her go by,
She is on her last pair,
All those years of dancing,
In the arms of the man,
Who held her up in the air,
Gone now,
She does the final scene,
Her swansong,
And bows,
Her head filled with sad thoughts,
Covered by her white hair.

~Rei Shiori