lipsticked
she slow-danced tonight
with two boys
& I remember
that magic on the edge
of 13
when something
in the center of the chest
buds & begins to open
she asked me tonight
if I still like dancing
or did I ever…before
before what?
before my feet grew roots
& I became her oak, shading
before that I knew movement
& rhythm & still do
but mostly I dance
when no one’s watching
but you
& yes, I still close my eyes
when it’s slow
& we move together
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Love the ending
Thanks, sis. I enjoyed that one, have to say it… This old woman still can smolder when she wants to 😉
precious and lovely! both of you.
Oh, thank you, Jane!
What a soothing ending for a perfect poem that your created. Marvelous!
🙂
Charlie, thank you! So glad you liked it.
You’re so truly welcome. 🙂
starts with the innocent and ends on the sensuous, the movement so smooth and the slide, achieved through the shift of the referent of YOU, so delicate soft that the end catches us smiling and almost blushing…well, almost, ok, not almost, kind of!
Oh, what a lovely comment–and I like how you catch that slide here, beautifully, and turn your comment into another poem. Fair warning: Something Obinna said yesterday, added to some comments you have made, plus Boomie & Celestine–so I am writing something to all of you 😉
This is beautifully written, Susan. Love the new look of the blog 🙂
Celestine, thank you so much!
oh Susan, I love this. Refering to yourself as her oak–
isn’t if funny when our kids try to see us as something other than a parent? Why do you refer to yourself as an old woman? Stop that..
I love your stuff as you know but this is going on my all time fave list.
Audra–thank you–so glad you liked this. I am referring to myself as “old” as this is how my delicate little buttercup sees me 😉
I love your new blog layout. It looks so fresh and cool 🙂
And yes, the poem is beautiful as ever. How do you manage to carve such beauties every time?
Oh, Green, thank you. Hmmmm–every time? I think I miss more than I hit, but thanks so much for saying otherwise…
I like this. Lovely ending, too
Duncan, thank you.
Credit where it’s due. and ic an be sould destroying if you post something and nobodysreadingme ! 😉
That is true!
Gorgeous –
before my feet grew roots
& I became her oak, shading
– especially so.
Mike, thanks. I really do think that is how she sees me, rooted, stable, incapable of swaying to something as mundane as music 😉
Kids can’t imagine their parents being anything passionate. I think it short circuits their brains!
As it should…
I liked this very much.>KB
KB, thank you.
before liking the poem i think i loved your new blog theme. Better, Bolder and more Beautiful. I guess reading can be moore fun. 🙂
Thanks for liking the new look–some modern Christmas decoration!
I like how you move differently because you became “her oak.” That says a great many things very simply.
Thanks, Jeremy. It kind of gets to the essential quickly, and I am so glad it worked that way…
This is magical! Amazing how much can be distilled into a single poem with such perfectly arranged words
Stephen, thank you! It was one of those lightbulb moments you get, driving my daughter home from the dance, her asking me that question, and then–BAM–there it was. Glad you liked it!
Lovely. They can change so quickly at this age and make us smile…
Thanks, Leo. Yes, they can. Sad, scary, and wonderful all at once.
Nice contrast, and yes we dance when no one is looking and in hour hearts.
Yes, we do!