Sunday’s Special Dance

by Phyllis Kriegel

When Daddy danced in the living room
to Sunday’s Philharmonic
music pouring out of
our mahogany Magnavox
my world turned joyous.
So graceful, so handsome–
as light on his feet as Fred Astaire–
whirling with daring leap
to coffee table for finale.
We laughed.
We clapped.
Now, I wonder—
Did he feel like a bird
soaring over Hackensack
or think of bearded
men dancing in Vilna?

Phyllis Kriegel:

Dallied with Dante
Played at Proust
Cuddled with Kafka

Then it hit me:

Stories happen
to those 
Who write them.