off to the side
and sweep the floor well.
She puts on a pink tutu
and ballet slippers
worn through at the toes.
My naked quilt rack,
requisitioned for her purpose,
serves as the barre.
Piano notes tinkle
in harmony
with the clink of dishes.
Her little girl pirouette
turns
my kitchen into . . .
A world of dance,
music,
dreams.
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