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Slipper Dreams
Agnes, Age 16, GuangZhou, GuangDong, China

                     
Trusty slippers old and worn,
Two old pals sat side-by-side.
Loving, faded fuzzy pair,
Waiting in the slumbering night.

Flooded in the spotlight moon,
deafened by the thundersnores.
Tick by growing tick, the clock
chimed and rang out three times four.

As the master ceased to snore,
the slippers nudged and twitched.
Hopping forward now with glee,
their heels and soles bewitched.

With a tapping toe, one called,
“Two and six and eight and four!”
Then the Moonlight Jazzing Band
struck a jamboree galore.

Sparked, winged, unstill, and free
ragged no more, now sparkling bright
were delicate slippers made of glass,
sashaying in the starlit night.

Never did the music pause
or did the dancing shoes keep still
until the baby rays of sunlight
peeked above the window sill.

For as the master groaned and yawned,
the jangle of music halted.
Beside him slipped those bedroom slippers,
patching and stitching wanted.

Dancing shoes they long to be,
a dream they cherish dear.
But nowhere else they’d rather dance
than with their master, here.

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