Sitting in the window by the pale moonlight
I rocked your newborn baby as you prepared
to go out with a friend, for you had the desire,
the need, to dance.
Barely over the birth process you looked radiant
as you entered the room, wearing that little
black dress that I know, you swore, you would
never fit into again.
The music was playing and you picked up your baby
and danced with her, swaying to the music and
twirling her around the room and I swear,
I was never as proud of you as I was back then.
Fondly I recalled, how once upon a time,
this child's mother was that little girl of mine.
Then wiping the tears from out of my eyes,
bidding the past adieu, inspired by you,
I got up and I danced too.
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