Walking on Broken GlassA Poem by David Lewis PagetShe kept him out in the garden shed Where her sisters wouldn’t see, He’d not been once in her upstairs bed If they saw, she’d say, ‘Who me?’ He hadn’t come from her neighbourhood So he wasn’t quite her class, Whenever they met, he’d be upset Like walking on broken glass. He wasn’t known to her wealthy friends Her folks or her peers at all, If they came by she would go all shy And gaze at a cold brick wall, While he made out that he wasn’t there Would hum and look at the sky, She made him stare like he didn’t care Or was merely passing by. But deep down things were beginning to hurt As he felt each little slight, Like when she came to the garden shed For her love feast every night, She’d bring her cushions and lay her down As she offered up her breast, Then pick the cushions up off the ground To take, once she had dressed. She didn’t want to be seen with him She’d say, ‘It can’t be done, My friends would freak and would think me weak If they knew what’s going on,’ She said he’d have to be patient, that It all would be all right, ‘The time will come when I’ll have to tell But it just won’t be tonight.’ Her sister came to her room one day With a new bow in her hair, Her hands had shook with excitement And that made her sister stare, ‘You’ll not believe what I found today And I took into my bed, The greatest love of my life, and he Was sat in the garden shed.’ David Lewis Paget
© 2016 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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6 Reviews Added on September 22, 2016 Last Updated on September 22, 2016 Tags: Garden, class, friends slight Author
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