My legs move fast
my feet still remember
Mama ran away.
The Charleston ends
my feet, still
I plunk a new recording on Victor Victrola
plant the needle in the grove
turn the crank.
My feet move again
green and yellow squares of rug
melt together
I spin, braid pinging from one shoulder
to the next
like two different suitors
tapping my shoulder
asking to be my dance partner.
Like a wild mushroom,
my skirt puffs
the swoosh of movement says,
“Everything will be alright again.”
I squint to believe.
photo credit
via Mushroom
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 
Very impressive use of today’s daily prompt!
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Thank you!
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A amazing poem. I liked how you used the words. A old fashion feel to them.
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Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.
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Thank you for the reblog! This piece is actually a prose version of the beginning of my latest novel, The Moonshine Thicket. 😉
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You are welcome Carolyn. A excellent prose poetry.
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