The Pulse of Saturday Night
Memories of the old dance hall
are sealed in the mind of a middle-aged
bopper who remembers the magic
of Saturday night many years ago when her
date appeared before the door whistling the
latest tune while combing his slick hair looking
handsome in his plaid jacket and freshly
polished white bucks.
The rag-top Chevy had a Saturday
night shine with its loud music playing
from its AM radio while both sat close together
with his arm around her pony-tailed shoulders,
they laughed in love as he peeled rubber at
the traffic light rushing to meet the gang at
Wally's Drive-in for burgers and shakes,
and then on their way to a night of be-bop-a-loopa.
Boarded windows, faded paint, a fallen sign and
unmowed grass are yesterday's memories of a time
when going steady, wearing letter sweaters and
exchanging rings were favorite things to do,
she stops and stares at the old dance hall recapturing
the pulse of Saturday night which gives blueberry
feelings to her well-seasoned heart.
(Topic: Traveling back in time)
Copyright © Sonia Walker | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment