One Last Dance

By: Iolanda Scripca

Weeping willows on dead Swans' Lake

Ballerina shoes too small, hanging on rusted nails

I keep on waking up from giggled dancing lessons

Mother still alive in the waiting room - proud...

Shaking fingers crossed, holding my fans' bouquets

My hair not gray, teasing life on pirouettes

It started snowing glitter of way long childhood gone

I scream a violent silence through a double paned sliding dream

It's time - the time when clocks face me without hands -

I shyly grab some "What if's" and remember to tie my shoe laces

" Stand straight, chin up" - a stage light on a solo swan

A last and gracious slide on an untangled musical key...