Glittering wind-chimes cast musical raindrops,
crystals glint magically, rainbows abound.
Ginger cat sits on a sunlit pine staircase
watching his mistress dance, spinning around.

Blue satin ballet shoes, wistful expression,
black chiffon swirls around ivory calves.
Incense suffuses the October morning,
green silken blouse brushes elegant vase.

“Look at Elizabeth!” (timeless, the mantra),
“She’s not quite right, you know, leave her alone!”
School was a nightmare for someone so lovely,
raven dark hair and with skin white as bone.

Cruel the playmates, the gossips, the foolish;
time little alters their ignorant minds.
Not so, Elizabeth! Happy! Intelligent!
She who sees all whilst the rest remain blind.

And so she dances and twirls for the morning,
bliss in her eyes, with the grace of a swan.
Fey is Elizabeth, friend of the Faeries,
She’ll still be dancing when we are all gone.