Description
In the heart of ruins, where time has cast its spell,
A ballerina rests, her story to tell.
Former glory fades, the Trinity Institute's hall,
Yet her presence brings life, an enchanting thrall.
Upon a windowsill, she finds her throne,
A delicate balance, a dance of her own.
Gazing through glass, to a world far away,
Her spirit takes flight, like a star's gentle sway.
A book waits beside her, pages whispering tales,
A portal to realms where imagination sails.
An old lamp stands witness, its shade now amiss,
Yet its glow still lingers, a beacon of bliss.
She embodies the past, the building's soul,
Her movements a testament, a story untold.
Through broken windows and cracked walls,
She paints beauty anew, where desolation falls.
Balletic grace in contrast with decay,
A harmonious ballet, in twilight's soft ray.
Her silhouette etched against the fading light,
A dancer in ruins, a mesmerizing sight.
Amidst dilapidation, she finds her stage,
An artist undeterred, a poet of age.
With each pirouette, she weaves dreams anew,
In the hush of abandonment, her spirit shines through.
Oh, ballerina in Trinity's forgotten embrace,
Your dance reclaims splendor, leaving no trace.
Through windows and time, you breathe life anew,
In the heart of desolation, a masterpiece true.
Taken at the old Trinity Institute in Tehuacana, Texas