Ballerina
The bun upon my head,
Sleek and aerodynamic.
They may think my style is a fad,
Changing and passing with time.
Though It's classic,
Pure and genuine.
When alone the bun commands me,
My body sporadically moving and creating for no one.
When in a competitive studio,
My composure is professional and focused.
When in a classroom of patronizing persons,
I am quiet,
Dreaming of dancing on my toes.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Karadance77
I'm an active lover of dance, obsessed with every song by sleeping at last, fan of electronic music, and an experimenting writer
View all poems →Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.