The Snow Queen. (Revised).

My eyes soon tire of such opulence.
In future please keep to simpler costumes
So that I can dream who you really are.

In the meantime I sit quietly in the amphitheatre
Watching you move among the other dancers
Like a shaft of light intermittently piercing the clouds,

Your blonde hair almost touching the boards of the stage
As you trust yourself to the strength of your partner,
The choreographed moves planned to look improvised.

To be honest, I prefer you in torn jeans and trainers
Standing incognito outside the theatre,
Just another pedestrian in the bustling crowds

Juggling the choices of tube train, night bus or taxi,
The applause a small part of the long weary day.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 2nd. - 3rd. - 5th. 2018.

I am indebted to Tchaikovsky for the first line of this poem.