I don’t dance,
don’t hold the rhythm.
I don’t dance until,
brown eyes and puppy dog
sighs relent me.
This song is too 80s
and you’re too short
but I’m carrying on.
You can’t imagine
how goofy I feel. Your little arms guiding the way.
I see you smile.
Your eyes shine with unfamiliar shimmer
Are you crying?!
Tears stream down your cheeks.
“This song is so beautiful,” you say through tears.
You’re right,
it is.
How did you age so quickly
in your short seven years?
Bemused and taken off guard,
my eyes begin to tear.
Your mom, you and I
dance along, crying and laughing alike.
We have found
solid ground in dancing and tears.




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