”Dancing At Bobbie’s”
By: Brandy Seymour
Our first year, I remember,
We were all Baby Blue birds,
And I even remember that first night.
That first night upon the stage,
With my fellow Baby Blue Birds,
All gathered in a semi-circle,
Bowing our little heads,
And touching our little toes.
In the second year, we had...
Pink bow ties, tu-tus
And little pink arm cuffs.
That year was exciting,
We got to be tap dancers,
For the first time.
Yes, the little Christmas parties,
The fun games, occasional treats,
But getting that color,
Was most important.
With each year that passes,
The classes become smaller,
As small as a foursome.
In the third year, our costumes...
Were white with red poke-a-dots,
And of course, red tutus
How exciting they were,
But they were not match for...
The fourth year, sing’in,
Just sin’in in the rain.
With hot pink costumes,
White bow ties, and little pink parasols,
We loved our little pink parasols.
Yet the fifth year, brought pink balls.
Our dance was a ball dance,
With white skirts, and shirts.
That dance made us five,
And the newcomer was tiny.
Laughter was a problem,
But so were the bees in the van at the fair.
Year six was different, we tried...
Tamboes, a bench, and poofy hair pieces,
Orange costumes, and a rainbow of sparkles.
We checked out the Pigeon Festival,
At the old Lions Club,
And Stacy danced,
To Manic Monday.
Seven is a lucky number, Charleston...
That was a blast from the past.
Black costumes, no tutus
Ooooooooooh, black Velcro fringes instead.
We visited Old Summit Towne,
For some older folks, I believe.
Eight was a finale for our tapping five.
New York, New York...
that was Jenny’s song,
but we kicked up our legs,
threw out our canes,
the audience whistling, and cheering,
black top hats, white bow ties, black bottoms.
Nine added Jazz to the scene,
Big Girls Don’t Cry.
White tops with black bottoms,
and black poke-a-dots too.
It was a new group of five,
Yet ding-a-long, and I...
Tap, Tapped together,
in blue with sliver fringes,
and silver sparkling hats.
During the tenth year, tap had lost.
Jazz was it,
And we were short one from the five,
Yet we wore green biker shorts,
White shirts with pink, green and gold.
That was Stacey’s last year,
That was the year of the storms,
And the tornadoes, remember?
Year eleven, what an awesome dance,
We were given some freedom to decide.
Yo Sweetness was the song,
How sweet that dance was,
Wearing cheetah patterns with...
We formed a square,
Kid n’Play, Roger Rabbit, Running Man...
I almost forgot about the hot chocolate,
Without the chocolate.
Oh twelve’s costume was interesting,
Totally black and skin tight,
That was a fright.
Everybody Dance Now,
we were proud of our jazz class,
Monday 7:30 for four years running.
They say thirteen is not a lucky number.
We were lucky, but our costumes...
They were black and see through the belly.
The dance was a little seductive,
So some may have said, or thought.
It was one of our best performances.
In our fourteenth year,
a child’s dream came true.
That little Bran Flakes, had always hoped,
To someday dance with Bobbie,
Just like Paula, and Stacy did.
It was tap on benches,
So fun that I had forgotten,
How much I loved tap.
White, and black costumes with black fringes,
Shannon and I, really wanted that gong.
Jazz, we slacked a little,
But procrastination always brings neat things,
We were bats, and winged each other at the recital.
Now we have made it to year fifteen,
Can you believe that all of those years have gone by?
Tapping for a second time with Bobbie has been a treat,
In Jazz we dared to ask about the costumes,
Because we were a bit scared, just kidding.
This year’s memory brought,
The first rain ever during the street fair.
We almost made it through the first scene.
Unfortunately, this poem, can’t go on forever,
Yet there are so many things, memories,
I have not told here.
There is simply not enough paper in this role,
To cover all that I remember.
All the fun, thrills, and excitement...
Only two Baby Blue Birds made it through,
Ding-a-ling, who is no Meliska,
And Bran Flakes.
Thank you, for all of the memories,
The good times, and the support,
Have a Happy Christmas and,
A Merry New Year.
I first heard that story,
And those sayings,
The year of Charleston,