dancing to the beat of the silence
soft blonde curls
in pink ribbon.
dancing to nothing.
three years old.
twirling, giggling, twirling
wooden floorboards creak.
daddy stands in
the doorway just
to watch me.
he comes in,
takes my hand.
I stand on
his feet and
he leads me
around. dancing to
the rhythm of
the kitchen sink
drips, the thumps
in our chest,
and the hum
of the fan.
no music needed.
I was already
hearing every beautiful
sound there was.
so we danced.
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