Prima Ballerina Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

The world kept turning round and round
in its predestined grooves
while I in a well-furnished grove
danced to my self styled moves

I was the choreographer
knew well what I was doing
for was I not called number one
in ventures worth pursuing?

A ballerina of great note
they called me in the papers
adoring fans kept me afloat
in glamour's rarest vapors

One day by some freak accident
I tore my tendon badly
plies and spins and graceful steps
were put on hold quite sadly

Soon there was no one who would deign
to visit or send roses
left by myself in rooms once grand
I could not feign old poses

The mirror was my enemy
no longer clothed in fashion
I was bedraggled, haggard now
the rosy glow turned ashen

In long gone, early childhood years
I had watched dragonflies
and wondered how they learned to soar
in graceful lows and highs

Oh, how I wished in my sad lot
to be like those small creatures
who flit on reeds in fields of green
that they could be my teachers

But it was too late for me now
I had gone much too far
in my ascent to gloried fame
too late for this sad star

For I had stepped on many toes
in my pink satin shoes
spurned many who reached out with love
too many hearts I'd bruised

The world keeps turning round and round
in its predestined grooves
the grove is filled with weeds where I
once danced with self styled moves.