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