The ballerina

by Marcello Comitini

The ballerina that I was holding
in my arms fly high.
Tender like a drop of water
The wings of his heart fluttered captive.
I caressed her like a dream made flesh.
She asked for love and freedom. Did I know donate them?
So I opened my arms. I lost her.

Image by S. Hermann / F. Richter from Pixabay 

https://marcellocomitini.wordpress.com/