We walked the City Centre.
You held my hand.
‘What if I bump into
one of my kids?’ I thought.
In the movie,
still holding hands,
I felt your body shake.
(It was The Power of One.)
For dinner you chose a pub,
not wanting to over-impress.
It was the legendary Argo,
coolest place in town.
You arrived with dark red roses
to take me to bed,
an ice-breaking exercise.
We were both awkward.
At Christmas you took me
to meet your children.
Someone stopped you just before
you filled the tank with diesel.
When you asked me
would I marry you,
first I said yes, then enquired
if it was a hypothetical question.
NaPoWriMo Day 5
full of humorous turns. love the last line as it echoes the afterthought feeling of the moment and by where it is in the poem.
ReplyDelete(Reader, I married him.)
ReplyDeleteIt's funny I so rarely write autobiographically straight up, nearly always a mixture of various people's stories.
ReplyDelete:) yep.
ReplyDeleteChurning out two a day, the immediate tends to become the raw material — and I'm fairly confessional anyway. My more leisurely pieces, though, are not always autobiographical; some are fictional, some a mixture.
ReplyDelete