THE DRESS

From the chest smelling of aroma and must
Grandma took a dress she wore when young
It is so thin and it’s as light as dust,
As if out of nothing it had sprung.

So sadly rustles the dress of silk white,
Its ruffles unweave like misty lace,
And delicate figures, in a douche of light,
Like in old times, are waltzing with grace.

She sees again her very first ball,
She recognizes her maiden dress,
Touching the cold silk she trembles all,
Filled with sadness door its soft caress.

More and more, she bends her tired brow,
So bent is grandma in her old shawl…
The beautiful dancer, where is she now
To glide...