tagNon-Erotic PoetryDances of yesteryear

Dances of yesteryear


Awkwardly in his new suit
not having left boyhood behind
he foot gazes
one two three, one two three,
sweat stains a too tight collar
from effort near defeat.
She sighs at crushed toes
stumbles round the floor corsage wilting,
new-born love for this boy
keeps her there
albeit for now at arms length.
Dances of yesteryear
male wallflowers to the left,
females to the right giggle
make doe eyes.
No sitting down for fear of crushing
yards of starched tulle,
orange squash on sale in the corner
or cider if you're lucky.

Poetry Survivor
Poets Choice Trigger 38

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