A voice from behind asked
Will you…will you come out with me?
I’ve tickets for Louis Armstrong next week,
Oh please do come with me.
The words were almost whispered –
Who is he talking to?
Don’t turn round, I thought,
He’s talking to someone else.
Then he said it again.
I hear the desperation,
force a quick look round to find
His shining eyes are centered
on my head.
OK, yes please
A true story – that’s how I met my first husband, in the queue for a canteen lunch at work. My best friend was beside me and I was convinced he was talking to her.
For this poem, I used a few of the words posted by Elizabeth Crawford