Toe Dancing

I love poetry.

The rhythm. The cadence. 

It's like dancing. With words.

Because of this love, I've decided to implement Poetry Monday.

The day when I get to rhyme. All the time.

To start things off, a poem dedicated to the person who gave me the love of words. 

My dad.

Enjoy . . .

When I was four, my dad adored, and followed him around,

The things he did (to this small kid) did fascinating sound.

From ‘doing chores’ and things outdoors, to office work. With pens.

Well, I’d appear, interest sincere, and lots of time to spend.

Our barn, it burned, all were concerned, that year that I turned four.

Soon things were bought and experts sought. A barn was built once more.

Then we ranch folk (in a masterstroke) with this new elbow room,

Thought we’d have fun, perhaps some sun would clear away the gloom.

We’d have a dance. Some wheel and prance, was what was needed now.

Our neighbours, too, would gloom eschew, and our new barn endow.

We hired a band who took command, and music did ensue,

We ate and twirled and stomped and whirled from hello through adieu.

I don’t recall that much at all, I do remember this:

My dad was there, in shined footwear, and nothing was amiss.

He took my hands and had me stand upon those shiny toes,

Then slowly lead (my fears all fled), and love for Daddy rose.

The days have passed, the years amassed, I don’t remember much,

Though far I gaze, that’s day’s a haze, of people, stuff and such.

I know they had both good and bad, some happiness and woes.

One thing that’s best above the rest. I danced on Daddy’s toes.

My friend Delores has made a suggestion. Would anyone else like to join in? I can include your URL here on my page. I'd love to have you with me!The rules are simple. Poetry. Any type. Any topic. Any length.Monday morning. 'Cause what Monday wouldn't be a little better started off with rhyme?Let me know in the comments!