cool

there were no tornado warnings
but we went down to the cellar
the dirt floor was cool on our bare feet
and the air was cooler too
stealing away humidity’s power

this was our music shelter
where we could play Beatles 45s
and sway and dance and sing
escape the adult frowns
and wait for the cool night and fireflies

/ / /

This poem was written to the shelter prompt at Poetic Asides. I borrowed “music” from Elizabeth’s words for day nine at her blog, 1sojournal.

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