She danced with her daughters/
who had glasses like mine./
We all looked divine/
as we chugged bottled water.
We rocked to music nobody knew,/
But we all had fun,/
From me old, to them young,/
Groovin’ on ballads and classic with some Krew.
She and her daughters were all eclectic,/
With shocked hair white,/
and spangled bands shining bright,/
Moving to beats electric.
And I promised I’d write her a poem;/
A Sonnet about being a poet alone,/
(But this ain’t it.)