He stands where he said he would

Underneath the old clock tower

All drapes, crepes and quiff

brushed and combed

The slick black shine

Smoothed back with open palm

He lights another cigarette

Whilst his other hand

Moves a coin across the knuckles

Of his fist

He practices his Elvis smile

A curl of the lip

As he scans the crowd

Through his smoke ringed haze

He pretends to little care

But his attention to detail says it all

 

Then she emerges

From the pack

With her giggling friend in tow

All cherry lips

Curves curls and twirls

He quickly looks her up and down

With his practiced Elvis nonchalance

Nodding with approval at

Clothes chest and hips

 

‘Right then’ he says

With as much of a casual air as he muster

‘Shall we do this thing’

The same words he uses

Twenty- Seven years later

To accompany their oldest daughter

Up the aisle

Still trying to conceal

All that he feels

For the one he cares most

No cheap brag or bluster