Musical Wreaths

For some, a soldier's weapon it is

And many, a soft coated balancing skin

When the music dances, the ballerina chooses her flow

That only ends when the world ever will

The music stood on her, like a scythe

Moving from her "midriff" to her "brain waves"

It was all in the heat movement, in the time

As her hair braid would stick out of her white top

It's always in the beauty, the beauty of artists

That they make this colorful, the world of white & black

With the music, waves, and intensity that's free of cost

Giving the pleasure that's worth (1000) thousand lives

If you only knew ballerinas are like soldiers

And music is the purest form of medicine