There before me the Dancer Begins.
Fans of white paper accent the untainted ivory of the hands clutching them,
As her movements slip seamlessly together,
a halo the color of night appears,
a flowing river of the Dancer's raven locks.
She is Beauty; She is Perfection,
Yet I know that She can never be taken,
Never be held, or She would never dance again.
Her footsteps will never be silenced.
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Comments about this poem (The Dancer by Cory Ruda )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
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