Beneath the sun’s slow golden swing,
Awoke the call of the groove thing,
A whisper wild through forest deep,
That stirred the stars from daytime sleep.
The breeze wore bells upon its toes,
And tiptoed where the river flows,
While mushrooms hummed a funky beat,
That tickled trees and pranced through street.
A unicorn with mirrored mane
Did moonwalk down the daisy lane,
And fairies tossed their glitter wide,
As cloud-drum thunder kept the stride.
Our shoes flew off, our souls took flight,
With rhythm spun in velvet light,
Each step a spell, each twirl a rune,
We danced from noon to neon moon.
The owls wore shades, the cats wore hats,
We spun with frogs in feathered slacks.
A Saturday not bound by time—
Just groove and heart and rhyme and chime.
So if you hear that distant ring—
Don’t fear the call of the groove thing.
Just close your eyes, lift up your hand,
And let the rhythm take command.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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