Rhythms reaching for this poetical being, wanting to get up and dance like when younger, never sitting out a single solitary dance, always on the dance floor all night long.
Such a wonderful way to exercise, always was very slim and trim back then, dancing to the Orange Blossom Special with one of my brother-in-laws because my sister couldn't keep up with him.
What a really great time being had when so much younger, wanting to join in and dance right now, those memories bring a smile to this poetical being's face today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Try writing a poem without using the word rhythm in it. All your mass produced same old, same old, same old are mass produced repetitive garbage.