We were young

Music was in our feet.

My older sister and I

left with the chores

of the evening after dinner

to clean the kitchen.

We would wash the dishes

And as we did, we danced.

Rock and roll

And beach music,

the shag was the rage,

linoleum floor.

Our grandparent’s home

and white wash cupboards.

a small kitchen table

With a swinging door to the dining room.

A door we kept closed

So we could dance to the radio

Sitting on the yellow table

Loud enough to get by …

not loud enough to get caught

Elvis, the Beatles and Buddy Holly

Transformed into our bandstand

As we found ourselves dancing

In grandma’s kitchen …

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