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Dancing In TimeIn my grandmother's day they danced in three-quarter time. No swaying together or movements seductive, that was the way they danced in my grandmother's day. In my mother's day they danced in crazy swing-time. They jitter bugged and jived to that big band sound that was the way they danced in my mother's day. Yesterday, we twisted the night away, we bended our minds to some groovy sounds, as we danced alone in the crowd, that was the way we danced back in my hey day. But today, they pop and they jerk and stand on their hands with their legs in the air, gyrating to a hyper rap sound this is the way they dance in my daughters day. By: Claudia Rodriguez - December 2005 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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