My first date- judgement day of a lady
Lying on my bed,
looking at the mocking ceiling,
sinking in thoughts
Why must I do this?
Why shouldn't it be the other way round?
But I know someone had to make the move
I swiftly moved to my round table
My palms, sweaty
My shoulders high and fragile
My heart thumping
He'll be here any minute
And I have to say what I have to say
And do what I have to do
The next minute, I'm on my feet
Pacing the floor timidly
My back pack in it's right place
Was I going to speak first again?
My face was hot like coal,
red with blood,
glowing like burning magnesium
Now I've got to know how to start
Or I'll just fade away
I hope he'll arrive late
So I can practice better...
There's a knock on the door
BLANK!
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
Added by Poetry Lover
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