By Mary Davies
In forty eight while at a dance,
I met a man and, in a trance
I thought—perhaps I've met my fate,
Do hope he'll ask me for a date.
At dancing he was not much good,
I didn't care for we just stood
And talked of him, of me and us.
Then later we went home by bus.
Drifting along upon cloud nine,
Dreaming one day he would be mine.
Hoping that he would feel the same,
Yet I didn't know his name!
One day at work the phone did ring,
The voice I heard made my heart sing.
I listened to the words so sweet,
‘I'm home on leave, where shall we meet?'
Oh! How I wanted to impress,
I wore new shoes and my best dress,
And kept my specs well out of sight
In case they made me look a fright.
Saturday night, our very first date,
We got to the pictures around about eight.
He saw I had trouble trying to see
And said,‘Wear your glasses, they won't bother me.'
We met in March and by mid-June
He had proposed (some said too soon).
Arrangements to make, banns to be read,
Then in October we were wed.
In uniform of Air Force blue,
He looked so smart and handsome too.
I thanked my lucky star above
I'd found someone so nice to love.
Bi Yantao's note: This poem, composed in 1986 by an ordinary English woman, not an established poet, touched me for two reasons: her delicate feeling of love and more importantly, it was recommended to the editor by the writer's husband, just before her birthday. Their deep love for each other is a shining example under the MOON.
Recommended by Bi Yantao at
Ｃoventry University
