Tiptoes

Her balance begins on tiptoes.
Bare feet, hard floor dictate her prose.
She wanders Mammaw's living room.
One foot, left foot, right- look at her
Causing Papaw's blackbird a stir.
She pirouette's to her own tune,
In unperfected time and style
She crosses her stage with a smile-
This growing, six year old, fleshplume.

My poem is based on a childhood memory while visiting my mammaw and papaw.

11 comments:

ThomG said...

Nicely done. What a great picture your words paint.

one more believer said...

wow, you made the form seem so simple... love the portrayal of yr beautiful muse grand daughter..

lissa said...

nice, there's lovely imaginary here, I would have using the first person perspective but this way actually makes the reader to think of her as someone we know

though I have no clue to any of the ballet terms, had to look up "pirouette"

angel said...

Brought back good memories of my son's first tentative steps!

sawan said...

That was really cute!

Tumblewords: said...

Oh, what fun this is! A lovely picture and memory!

watermaid said...

This brings back memories of how, inappropriately, I wanted, as a child, to be a ballet dancer. I loved the affectionate family words 'Mammaw' ans 'Papaw'. Hope to visit again more frequently than I have done for a while.

Greyscale Territory said...

Love how the image of "fleshplume" becomes the final piece de resistance. Fascinating poem!

Richard said...

I see her.

poeticgrin said...

I love the rhythm contained in this piece. The forms lends itself well to your chosen topic - that's part of the battle. The other part rests totally in the poet's hands - great job with this one.

Marcia said...

"In unperfected time and style..." is what makes children's joy so perfect. You made me smile, Michelle, I pictured the moment.