Brian Faulkner Poet Narrative

Scuffling Along

I was standing outside
On a downtown street,
Listening to the sound
Of the people's feet.

A tap tap here,
And a clop clop there;
A tip-tap clip-clop
Everywhere.

Then a scuffle through some leaves,
Feather-scuffling, full of ease,
And a smiling, bright-eyed face
High o'er the shoes.

Up into the sunny skies
She had set her laughing eyes
And she didn't seem to have
A single care.

And the clip-clops ceased to be,
Or at least, inside of me,
As I fixed on her a mighty
Spell-bound stare.

Then I found me in her wake,
It was surely no mistake,
For I followed that gay leaf-flag
In her hair.

It was just a week ago
That I stood a-listening, oh,
And what a glorious seven days
Have passed!

Now I scuffle in my ease
With my scuffler of the leaves,
Two gold rings around our fingers
Tightly cast!

Oh, you tap taps here,
And you clop clops there,
Oh, you tip-tap clip-clops
Everywhere,

I do love you for your sound,
For the girl you brought around,
For the town and street and walking
You make fair!

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