It was just for a quick moment
She was my tiny dancer
Walking out to the empty dance glass floor
She didn’t want the night to end
She wants some more
Rose petals fall from her hair
And I don’t even come close to filling her needs
All I have is this string of hippy beads
Post era 1971
That was before she was born
She paints her face
Starts dancing by herself
Under the stars
She comes to me for help
She’s full of Southern whisky
and homebrewed beers
Tiny Dancer
Shall we dance around the campfire
Watch the sparks fly
Float up to the sky.
I remember those days and have danced around the campfire of a electric guitar. My tiny dancer is still doing it. I'm encouraging her enter America's Got Talent, because she still has. Brought back memories as I remember watching sparks float up into the sky.
This poem really amazes. Brings back memories of me semi-hippy dazes. Was a Greenwich Village teenager. Danced with strangers & survived much danger. Thank you for the "Total Recall" reflection Douglas.
Nicely imaged and romantic. I'm thinking 'Tiny Dancer' would make a fascinating YouTube production. But that's just me. Incidentally Doug... this format is much better than the first was. Well done! Enjoyed.
Peace...
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Peace...