The Dancers Twelve – A Ballad

The Dancers Twelve – A Ballad

Twelve pairs of eyes peering through the keyhole

To a land of curiosity

Where many stories have been told

The earth rich with prosperity

The trees glisten high above

The birds chirping liquid golden

The beauty and grace of a dove

Where all is simply emboldened

Where the dresses bloom with each twirl

To dance to music uplifting

And smiles shine like ocean pearls

Spinning, dancing, never thinking

Til velveteen shoes in tatters

Stitches uneven and broken

And only dream of the dancers

Sweet sleep is their final token

Wonder awaits at the oaken door

The sweet longing to dance their dance

Escape from their life and the chore

And twelve twirl and twirl in a trance

To stop their life and train of thought

As calloused feet grow numb and mar

So different from what was sought

And lose all self and what they are

Forced to entwine on the dance floor

Torn to pieces as you gavotte

Does anything matter anymore?

Once caught to now only just rot

Hung heavy with lies and secrets

Coated with their black deception

Their shattered life torn to small bits

They lay rest a dance inception

Ode to a Peach Tree

 

Fruit of the kings

From long ivory stems

Come your colonial pink flowered hems

To blossom into coral globes that swing

Wrapped in velveteen coats

Your sweet scented perfumed notes

A core bleeding crimson rose

Yet spilling golden flesh enclosed

Until the first sweet and sticky bite

That spreads across continents to invite

Others to relish in amber delight

Into that succulent orb outright

 

Oh, tree of life

Your immortal flavor makes my heart sing

Victoriously sold as the market bell rings

Such a juicy splendor cut with knife

So carefully plucked by calloused hand

Perfect little suns that grace the land

Jam, jelly or pie

Or simply eaten on the sly

With their stones scattered abound

Left behind on a dusty ground

In hopes of climbing again to the sky

Stretching, reaching to a new high

 

Engulfed by soil

Gossamer roots reach

As they gnarl, entangle and beseech

And newly whitened sprouts uncoil

With columns of ants marching up thy spine

Up thy leaf and up thy vine

Yet strong you stand in the grace of the sun

Gaining strength, its rays undone

Once again a giver of life

Giver of hopes and dreams that take flight

Up high in the clouds

Stolid you stand rooted and proud