Rippling Sounds Of Laughter Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

There's no strolling being done for the dance floor is
full of people doing their own thing, posing momentarily
in mid step while finding their way back in.

Gracious, multi-talented, grasping hold of every motion and
sound of laughter that ripples across the room, stretching
and participating in rhythms, stepping over the music in many
self-made dances that totally motivate everyone to continue
to hang on.