She danced between dreams rusted and worn,
whirling and twirling until the music
stopped, and she slipped through the keyhole
of door number three where she found
another door that hinged on a dream.
And the lock was broken.
Still dreaming and dancing,
Responding to a Tweetspeak Poetry prompt on dancers and dreams.
If the lock is broken
then the door is open
Sandra Heska King says
I can see you dancing and dreaming…and it is beautiful 🙂
Martha Orlando says
Oh love, love, love..
mmm … He holds that key …