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Where were you last night

tell me dear I want to hear
where were you last night

trailing stars and meteorites
moonlight in your hair

singing up the driveway
dancing through the door

laughter in your bones my dear
eyes sparkling in the night

so who made your shoes go tapping
that tango up the stairs

who touched the feathers of your lips
and filled your voice with song

but now you are asleep my love
safe from winter frosts

your smile so wide you cannot hide
you tango’d up the stairs

so tell me dear I want to hear
where were you last night

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I don't have daughters, but I was one, once!
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

this poem is like lines of music, in the way it was written. it is lilting and rhythmic.there is beauty and sorrow in the question of who made him feel so happy. your choice of wording is excellent. I hung on every line!

*hugs & love, Cat

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Thank you, Cat
This was so much joy to write, and it felt like music. I have just started experimenting with simple accompaniment when reading aloud (one of my friends in particular has a cello). That is terrifying - because it is new to me - but fun, and not so lonely as standing up there alone! So when I wrote this one, I had that in mind.
maybe an idea for Neopoets: an audio reading option?!
Imagine hearing some of our voices.

Jenifer Jaspa James

author comment

something I know that I'm going to regret; BUT! If you read this poem with the same vision it was written in... You will see that
it is not written by a wife or lover wanting to know where her husband/boyfriend was last night, but a mother or father waiting for a daughter! Talk about seeing what you think you should or would see? LoL
Now, as to the poem itself; I loved every line and the intermittent rhyme was so smoothly woven in, that one hardly notices that there is no real rhyme scheme until you go looking for it. Bravo! [a word much used by my mother, who when amazed by something...] and I would dare say, that she would have been amused at the description of the daughter. I am the oldest of eight; three boys and five sisters! She always knew when one of us had a relationship going and could tell you the night it began. I digress, apologies all around... Great poem! ~ Geez.
.

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Spot on, Geezer. I actually wrote it from the perspective of myself, as a mother, watching myself, as a daughter , dancing through the door, with all that worry and love (and retrospective wisdom)... but interpretations are always for readers to make for themselves and to hold.
Huh! Love that story about YOUR mother and you and your brothers. Both my sons liked to pretend I didn't know - as if! gorgeous people that they are.

Jenifer Jaspa James

author comment

Those moments when we come home after an enchanted night...our parents waiting for us...wondering who has kept us out so late. Great job

~RoseBlack~

Ah, thanks so much, RoseBlack - the joy of enchanted evenings... and the sheer cheek that our parents wouldn't know!

Jenifer Jaspa James

author comment

And I am 42 years old...sneaking out to see that special someone....

~RoseBlack~

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