When the Boss Yells, I Want To Dance
Sharp voices fade
when I close my eyes
so many dreams lie inside
he can’t see.
He can’t see
lingering lines
as they long for paper
and they long to be.
They long to be
poems and stories
and I hear music
and raise my arms.
And raising my arms
I want to swirl around the room
like a summer storm
so free to move
over open prairie land.
Copyright © Mike Bayles | Year Posted 2023
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