Buried Music From A Life by D.N. Simmers

After Peter Robinson

There was music oldies
on the T. V.
Older than I am.
I remember when my mother
would swing
around the living room,
dancing to the music.
Music from the big band era.
Let her head go
one way and
her feet go the other
as if she
was back being fifteen
and there were boys
to impress and
parties to go to in a new dress.
I remember her swinging to the beat.
Not one I would grow to love.
Not hard rock or metal
or the screech of a voice
lost in a swirl of smoke.
Lost years
in the years
of dust and death.

D.N. Simmers

D.N. Simmers is an on line editor with Fine Lines. He is in the current Poetry Salzburg Review and the Common Ground Review. He is in two new anthologies and is on line in riverbabble, Wilderness House Literary Review and Whispers. He was in Van Gogh’s Ear, Paris France.

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