Dear Reader,
Summer days 2019
The poem I have published today is about my first dance. I remember it all so well. My mother insisted that I went to it, a pony club do at the local memorial hall. She always bought me the most frightful dresses which I hated, and curled my hair which I disliked even more. And I wore the most horrible spectacles that remind me of the ones Barry Humphries wore as Dame Edna. So you can see it wasn't a very good beginning.
I have never, in these last 70 odd years, enjoyed going to parties. I don't know why people do. And now of course as I am going deaf I can't easily hear what people are saying to me, so that is a good excuse not to go. Not that it matters since very little of interest is said at a party. Or at least not to me. Well each to his own I suppose.
Gull news: Apparently if you stare into the eyes of a seagull he will not try, or not try too hard, to snatch your sandwich. So that thought will cheer us all up when devouring our picnic at the beach.
*
The First Dance
I dreaded the dance
nervous, shy and bespectacled
these occasions terrified me
I wore a pink satin dress
white satin shoes
and a pearl necklace
Dad said I looked great
but he would
he loved me
In the dance hall I stood by myself
for a while
then hurried to the loo
In the mirror I saw nervous
red parches round my neck
and down my arms
a tear ran down my cheek
The band was playing
I did it my way and
Simon, the boy next door
asked me to dance
We shuffle together
both wishing we were
dancing with someone other
I saw Antony, my dream man
dancing with a red-haired woman
close and intimate
Later Simon walked me home
we didn't speak
but at the door
bending, his lips touched my lips, briefly
then he turned, and was gone.
*
With very best wishes, Patricia
Poignant as always. Such a painful memory I think many of us can relate to so thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWonderful to know we have a weapon against those pesky seagulls. Let us know if you have a chance to try it out!
Mxx