Under The Clock
Suited and booted he sat waiting there
Perched on the edge of his seat, restless
He sat watching the great clock hands moving
Slowly as they ticked off the minutes
His palms sweated and his heart pounded
As he waited beneath the great clock face
He asked himself “what was he doing”?
A blind date what was he thinking, madness
He was too old for blind dates far too old
Why did he agree, what would they talk about
He wasn’t young, he wasn’t cool, he was
More Wilson Philips than Wilson Picket
But there she was not too young and lovely
His mouth was dry and he felt a bit faint
“I was terribly nervous about tonight”
She said putting him straight at his ease
She slipped off her coat effortlessly
With an easy grace and elegance
When he took off his coat, he hit his arm
On the wall, hit a woman on the back
And knocked over a lamp, she laughed
Sympathetically and she bad him sit
Copyright © Paul Curtis. All Rights Reserved
