Bryn Strudwick Poet Verse

Golden Shovel

GOLDEN SHOVEL

I never thought that I would BE
The one she chose. I really did NOT
Dream that, when we reached THE
Last remaining waltz, I’d be the FIRST
She’d come to, passing all the others BY.
The one girl in the ballroom WHOM
I’d never dare approach. For me THE
Feeling of rejection’s nothing NEW.
But the feeling of rejection IS
As she approached I TRIED
Not to blush bright red; NOR
Would I stammer “Y.y.yes”. And YET
I did them both. But still THE
Dear girl smiled and I was in her arms at LAST.
And, when we swayed together TO
The strains of Strauss, she LAY
Her head upon my shoulder as THE
Lighting dimmed. And all my OLD
Uncertainties were cast ASIDE

Inspired by “An Essay on Criticism”
By Alexander Pope

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