Forever Ballerina
There goes the silver haired lady
She moves with an unsteady gait
A cane keeps her from falling
A brace supports her extra weight
Teenagers mock the decrepit lady
Complain she moves too damn slow
Make callous jokes about her posture
They swear they will never grow old
Memories shield her from the insults
Always wears a smile upon her face
She goes home to ballerina slippers
To recall a time she moved with grace
The Lonely Author 