Dance
The only man
that I could follow
no matter what the
dance - was the first man in my world
who held my pajamaed
bottom against his tuxedoed
chest, my bath wet curls resting
on his sweet cologned neck
as around the living room we whirled
Pearl, this was SO sweet! Reminds me of standing on my Uncle Joe's shoes in my bare feet as he gently waltzed me around the room. Such a lovely moment you have captured here, I enjoyed reading it aloud. Amy
ReplyDeletehttp://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/04/26/aging-disgracefully-and-proud-of-it/
Thank you Ames....this was created, but I have a similar sweet memory of standing on my grandfather's shoes, as he danced and I reached up to hold onto his belt - how lovely when one image lights another and that in turn reawakens another....Aw thanks again....glad you enjoyed.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem, Pearl. We were very impressionable when young. I have found memories of my father, I sure do miss him.
ReplyDeletePamela
Such a tender poem, and memory. Nice to have found you through Poets United.
ReplyDelete:) Thanks Pamela.. I miss my father as well.. but the dance lingers on...
ReplyDeleteThanks Poets United.. I have to do a better job of getting over there.. Sounds like a wonderful group :)
ReplyDelete