Last Dancers

Was there ever more
A reflection, a splay of light
rainbowing across the floor?
Suspended
infinite floating specks
flaring into and out of the light
a thermal rise and cooling fall
a rhythm of air, movement
a truth of moment, a shadow
then the depth of dark
descends.

Discarded toe shoes
worn, scuffed victims of years
and the merciless collapse.

Layers of dust coat the piano
the mirrored wall, the wood slat floor
as silence peeks in windows
and memories pause
in arabesque
then bow into yesterday.