deepundergroundpoetry.com

Tiny Dancer

just before dawn    
I would wake    
to the smell of cheap wine    
stale cigarettes and    
jasmine scented perfume    
     
my mother solemnly swayed    
at her vanity; humming    
while she combed her long blonde hair    
     
to the right of her silver brushes      
stood a piano shaped music box    
cedar made  
 
her grandmother gave her    
     
inside was a tiny dancer    
dressed like a pink ballerina    
with the finest silk  
 
she twirled    
     
every morning, she’d play the song    
Beethoven's sweet soft Love Story    
with sad eyes and a half smile    
     
I’d stand beside her chair    
mimic all her movements    
and hear the dainty song    
whisper away her tears    
     
years have passed since those days    
time has weathered the case    
once coral silk now peach    
from yellow nicotine    
     
it stopped working two years ago    
[she] stopped working two years ago    
together, she took her last breath    
while it played its very last note    
and spun it's final pirouette    
     
now it sits on my own vanity    
to the right of mother's silver brushes    
where my own daughter mimics me    
     
today, she picked up the music box    
opened to view the tiny dancer    
     
listened to it in wonder    
as she danced and played    
     
once again      
     
 
Written by raorrick (Rachel O.)
Published | Edited 10th Aug 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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