Once she danced upon the stage
At a very young and tender age
Her life devoted to her art
Create illusion be the part
A gentle plie that fell and rose
Her arabesque a perfect pose
A Grand Jete that suspended time
All faded from her fragile mind
On pointe her pirouettes perfection
As she spun in blurred reflection
In her dreams glissade so lightly
A pas de chat playful and sprightly
But now the ravages of time
Have touched a life that was sublime
That cruel and heartless thief of self
Has set her on that dusty shelf
Ballerina doll with china face
Chiffon and tulle, a bit of lace
Silk that now hangs lifelessly
Where once it swirled delightfully
Age has played its central part
To steal the mind and rob the heart
And though she now is wheelchair-bound
She awakens to a special sound
A sound that echoes in her mind
And as she listens, head inclined
In vacant eyes a feeble light
Does take hold and burns so bright
Strains of music she knew well
Long imprisoned within a cell
Where she spent solitary days
Now begins to brightly blaze
And then a withered arm extends
Then gently at the elbow bends
The legs to heaven once did climb
In her mind mark perfect time
And having reached the final act
The lovers perish in a pact
If separated they must be
Then death as one so it shall be
The music ends, the curtain falls
Deafening applause from one and all
The final bow is hers to take
The prima ballerina of Swan Lake