Perfect stance, fragile beauty, plastered smile,
She puts on her show with emotions set aside.
From passion to duty, from duty to slavery,
She performs, dancing to the tunes of music.

Slouch movements copying her graceful ones,
She watches as the little one yearns to be her.
Memories flooding, the scenario replaying,
She remembers holding that innocent gaze.

Child, she imagined being the queen of swans;
Even she had been mesmerized by Odette.
Now, frozen in time, the spell had worn off:
Odile’s deception was more apparent that ever.

The last notes playing, her tempo decreasing,
The curse forces her into painful submission.
Back to dreamless sleep she is compelled to go
Until another unlucky soul turns the key again.

Tiny hands flicking the key to the box of music,
Wishful eyes dream of what possibly can’t be.
A light hearted melody, an enchanting power,
The little porcelain doll is once more freed.