She is walking- scratch that- dancing in her sleep again.
I hear that creaking record player scramble to life every so often
a few hours before the sun comes up.
On a good day, she doesn't know her own name.
Damage is replaced by Grace and Beauty.
Plies'
Arabesque
Pas de chat
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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enjoyed the images it conjured
Made me smile......I'm already nuts and I'm "only" 52. I'd be content to be a mindless dancer swaying to the music. Feed me lemonade and call me a houseplant. :-)
"Damage is replaced by Grace and Beauty." Thanks....I loved that line. If I could take that at face value I'd be one handsome devil after reading your poem.
I'm sorry if my verbalization of the images in my mind conflicts with your intent while writing this poem. I mean no disrespect and am merely grateful for the march of goofy memories. I'm quite fond of idiosyncractic old ladies in general and chuckle evey time I see or get to hear of their antics. (My Grandma was looney as a bedbug by about age 60 and provides me with MANY smiles when I think of some of her quips.)
May she float on the same air as her partners, my friend.....
whispers the wind...or the InvisibleMan ;-)
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Poet
and if she falls off the edge of the Earth will Satan welocome her with warmth and tenderness. Such sadness that knows no repair...Poe. He smiles now.
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i enjoy the romance of the cranky record player here.
you transported me back to the 50s
well done cherry...pete
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