Monday, November 17, 2008

Poetry Train: Michelle on Ft. Myers Beach







Dancing


Piles of dead leaves
dance around my back yard.
I wish I was dancing to “Margaritaville”
with Michelle on Ft. Myers Beach instead.
The sand was our dance floor
and the waves kept time.
She was a sprite, new and innocent
frolicking in the foam.
The sunset winked at our silliness.

She was perfection:
whipped cream on butterscotch pie,
twinkling like an angel.

I wish I was on that open beach again
swirling her around.

This isn’t a poem about a little girl, though;
it’s a poem about the magic of childhood
and how we can all capture it
by dancing barefoot in the sand.

4 comments:

Julia Smith said...

'I wish I was on that open beach again
swirling her around.

This isn’t a poem about a little girl, though'

I really like how you set up the ending of your poem. It goes to so many visual places - a backyard, a sandy beach, a sunset, even a heavenly 'twinkling' place. Really enjoyed this.

lissa said...

lovely sentiment, it's harder to think this way now that being older and not at all wiser but every now and now, you, me and the rest of the adults can be found doing just this, even if it's a bit like dream

artpredator said...

it does have a dream like quality, wistful

paisley said...

to break free of this crust of aged indifference... to dance upon the sand....

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