Whispers of Movement
Reflection
In the soft blur of motion, they dance as one,
Ballet's gentle whispers, a waltz is begun.
Four ballerinas, lost in the haze of their art,
Their tutus a canvas, a swirling heart.
With every step, a story unfolds,
Of dreams and passion, young and old.
Their forms, a gentle blur, like memories past,
Yet in their movement, a timeless beauty will forever last.
In this fleeting moment, they are free,
Their spirits soaring, wild and carefree.
The dance, a language, that speaks directly to the soul,
A universal dialect, that makes us whole.