Ballerina (For Anne) Poem by Violet Llewellyn

A spinning top
Leaping across the floor
Coming down with a flourish
No one knows she's sore

The ballerina flies
Acting without a care
Impressing the audience so greatly
All they can do is stare

in the wings of the stage
The ballerina pants
Kept going by the people
Who want to see her dance

Here is the finale
And onto the stage she will come
Walking delicately
Her legs are almost numb

The audience gasps
To see an unsightly gimp
Amazed she could dance so well
Born with a disabling limp