Poetry

(A friend confided her memory of a dance recital and wearing a red dress in detail. Regrettably, she had no childhood pictures of herself. I wrote this poem for her.)

Photo by Misha Voguel on Pexels.com

Little Girl Blues

A photograph will always be in my mind.

Not on a bureau, credenza, night stand or shelf.

There is no where to look.

Nothing to find.

It’s not in the foyer, on a desk, or anywhere else.

The treasure lies deep inside my mind.

A girl . . . in a magenta dress!

Dancing the flamingo.

Swirling . . . Twirling.

Her feet stomp the floor.

The red taffeta bodice clings to her chest.

The crinoline and chiffon flounce and cheer for more.

The white poka dots stand and applaud.

She smiles.

There is no where to look.

Nothing to find.

The treasure lies deep inside my heart and mind.

. . . just saying

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