looking ...
through the stillness of a pane of glass
she wondered quietly , " can you hear it ? "
the violet choir in the fields
or the wind rush across your tongue
the kiss of satin blooms upon your cheek
did the sunset fingerpaint your heart
your reflective eyes upon the emerging stars
stepping back , she turned
the oak floor recounting footsteps
beneath the comfort of a braided rug
her favorite room , a universe of words
novels and shadows
wrapped in daydreams
she slides her fingertips
along the curled edge of the shelves
and pauses
her hands finding a treasure
to place upon her palm
her delicate fingers stroking
the grain of a hand-rubbed cherrywood musicbox
turning its brass key rhythmically
and lifts the gold rimmed lid
and listens
lemon oil memories singing from a tiny stage
watching the clockwork dance of a porcelain ballerina
her painted smile spinning above a frosted mirror
she sets it upon a small table
and glides to the velvet of her chair
" can you feel it? " she whispered to the night
the graze of each note
pearl upon your skin
of this symphony of tears
can you feel the breeze of her pirouette
can you feel her reach
for freedom
and she closes her eyes
to let her imagination fill the room
her body in another time
as she soars above the footlights
into a spotlight within the mind
woven into the lace of this music
this dance , her dance
moved by the stillness
Copyright 2011 Robin Amaral