In the empty concert hall The ballerina stretches her legs In two hours, the room will be abuzz Hundreds of people flocking together Eager to watch the trance-like dance Of a dozen young women In pastel lace and pointed shoes While the orchestra sings beneath them Silken violins and fluttering flutes That leap and glide with the dancers The crowd applauding at every pause And blinding lights beaming down On their pirouettes and pliés But for now, she is alone The ballerina on the vacant stage Peering out over the unfilled seats Her open arms fly free In arabesques and jétes She becomes as a butterfly Who is always the most brilliant In the silent stillness of nature Unwatched and untouched She curtsies for no one There are no hands to clap for her No feet to stand or lips to yell for an encore But she hears them all the same In the quietness of her mind She is the star she can never be When she is merely a dot among the other dancers A puzzle piece without a name In two hours, she will once again be A cloud assimilating with the sky But for now, she is a butterfly Finding that in tranquility Her beauty can truly be heard