Conteur en Tutu (#10)

I envy the ballerina
I am not proud of this
Her every graceful move
Encapsulates entire chapters of prose
Epic stanzas of verse

I envy her, the master storyteller
Who need only strike an artful pose
An elegant arabesque
A poignant pirouette
A port de bras of such ache and beauty that
Tears pour
Full hearts overflow

I envy her tiny, shapely form
Epitome of strength, yet delicate
Which inspires the equally beautiful men to
Lift them in an exquisite show of power and protection

I have only my lonely quill
Wielded with a virtuoso’s skill
To pluck the heartstrings
Word by spellbinding word
A glissade on the page
Carrying the reader overhead to the final turn of the page
The final flourish at story’s end

*conteur=storyteller in French

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