Prompt: Free-write about a child photo of you
Lips pursed to show love,
I am beyond bubbly.
As usual,
the center of attention
the adorable one.
The one everyone loved to love.
Including Shirley Temple,
VHS tape in my hand said it all.
Gift from grand-ma;
Temple and I were inseparable.
Best friends.
Same hairstyle,
same dance
and songs.
Animal crackers in my soup,
1,2,3, step
then loop-da-loop.
A friendship like this was unprecedented.
Especially since she still owned black slaves and
integration was inconceivable in her time.
But in my living room,
time did not exist.
Only our bond,
our curly cues
and tap dancing shoes.
Just singing the blues.
So I ran to her,
on the days the sun never showed
and rain never bowed.
Colorless days.
We sang the clouds away.
Stomped puddles through glowing prism until we made them shine.
Stole the shiny out of silver linings
admired our own beauty in their mirrors.
All without leaving the house.
And on days where the sun kidnapped me
and the pavement called my name,
she was still with me
as I attempted tap dance on gravel in flip-flops,
(as unsuccessful as any could guess)
Her sunsmile beams still caressed my cheeks in approval.
Something like the Teletubies baby.
Only way less creepy.
She held my hand as we danced until the sun went down.
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