Notes About The Poem
Entry for The This or That, Vol 38 Poetry Contest: Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh Date wrote 30th April 26
With Fingers Crossed
He sits, with fingers crossed, at dance floor's edge
as ever, he did this first Friday night
a boy too young to drink, too scared to pledge;
swirling skirts, exposed stocking tops, excite.
He’d seen it all before, mail-order books.
but never like this, the rhythm, beat, the heat
would she regard his suit of Brothers, Brooks?
The one his mother said that looked so neat.
He’d stolen perfume, left it on her porch.
She knew and would acknowledge with a glance;
which then, it would ignite the fiery torch
and so together they would dance, and dance.
He sits, with fingers crossed, at dance floor's edge
a boy who never danced, for fear the pledge.
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