The Music Box Dancer Poem by Kathy Lippard Cobb

My toes permanently pointed,
endlessly pirouetting
with only my reflection for company.

A voyeur to life—
I preside over diamonds
that will never adorn my skin,
a closet full of clothes I will never wear,
and a bed on which I will never sleep.

But once in a while if the night is clear,
and I am set at just the right angle—
I get to dance in the spotlight
as the moon glows amethyst
through the bedroom curtains.