My mother's love got taped on reels and spools, Cassettes she threw on on an old-school deck, On wheels that spun straight through our lives and went Unbreaking. What played in us played there on that Machine, so we were soundtracked to her old-school Tunes, to folk stuff - sixties hippy **** - That pulled our radar-hearts around and made Our souls attend. We'd be bouyed-up on soundwaves, Beats her hand MC-ed, her finger soft On PLAY, and sometimes, when the mood was right, We heard her too. Who knew that half a world On, on some late night slot, some other tune-in, I would find her track, and be rewound? Her sonic reverb tells me, βdance now, danceβ.