Sashaying through the beaded door
the room takes note, turns back around.
We've seen your entrances before—
sashaying. Through the beaded door,
you walk, heals clicking on the floor.
We know you're here, through sight and sound,
sashaying through the beaded door—
the room takes note, turns back around.
© C.D Sinex
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem