Ballerina

Sweet, dripping grace formed
As a pool of white milk at the behest of her trembling fist,
And she said “Oh, if I could swim along your waves,
Experience that feeling of flight,
Of cutting through that malleable air,
Hair trailing at angles so deep,
As its lank less figure flowing in ringlets
Cast shadow upon my new found world.
Oh, if my feet were dainty and this watering thirst
For an age of happy squalor could be fulfilled.
If I could twinkle my fingers in such a way
That the world would be mesmerized
With their sudden spright,
And my wings flutter with delight.
Oh! If I had been born a fairy,
Not of this world,
But instead that humming celestial princess
Whose form of grace captures thought with its pure white.”