Poetry Blogs (wallflower)

The music begins again.
You wallflowers who came
with the dance in mind
and empty hands to hold—
skulking along the fringe,
afraid to join in,
but more afraid to leave.
She comes.

You wither at her gaze,
hoping, not hoping
she is looking at you;
Would it mean more?
A joke, a fluke, a trick,
or perhaps a friend—
If you don’t see
will she leave?

Wallflower dancer
shaking and jiv...

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