Wet and stringy webs
that cling to our faces as we dance. No matter how fast we clear them off, more pile on. Our maid skills will never be enough to remove them. We continue our waltz. We salsa through the webs with our trusty Sawzall, broom heads and dusters. We can do this. We can meringue well enough to help our children grow, well enough to help them know that we love them... and show them how healthy love can be. You and me. We dance, our Samba so steamy that it melts the webs away. Someday our kids will be grown, and we? We will grow old and continue the rhythm gifted to us by chance. We will dance.
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AuthorMolly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw. Categories |