He ran in the house
grabbed my hand
and pulled me upstairs
to my bedroom,
a place he was not allowed.
My parents
were at work, though.
He made me sit
on the edge of my bed
and he got down
on his knees,
took the ring out.
“Will you marry me?”
he asked as he slipped
the solitaire
on my finger.
Did I even answer?
Did he ever imagine a “no”
in my mouth
ready to fly out
like scissors
and cut his smile
in two? He pulled
me up close
and “yes” got squeezed
in between
our beating hearts.
8 comments:
Sweet! I'm thinking this is non-fiction! Warm and lovely.
Phew! Lucky you, that's so romantic!
Linda! Good story. Good poem. Best for me is the part about the "no." What an active image. Almost surreal. Very visual. Its a wow.
"fly out like scissors."
How do you do it? :-)
nice! i hope this is true! :)
I often wonder how many proposals actually get turned down on a regular basis. I love "fly out like scissors".
I love the way the 'yes' came out. Very romantic.
This just evokes the power of young love so clearly. Reminds me a little of when my husband proposed to me...
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