An awkward child of 8 or 9
Lanky and plain,
I sat in a dirty red fold up chair
At a despondent party
In a dress that was too big
In all the wrong places
Bored, I tapped my foot to the beat
A boy approached me
An awkward child of 8 or 9
Unsure yet inexplicably confident,
He held out his hand
And nodded towards the dance floor
I shook my head, murmured,
"I can't dance, there are
Too many people watching.
I might trip or step on you".
He smiled slightly, revealing
A rather gap-toothed grin
That belonged to many awkward children of 8 or 9,
And giggled heartily
He did a deep bow, kissed my tiny hand,
and said in his best grown-up voice,
"There is only the dance"
He had me at the kiss.
I smiled, revealing my very own
Awkward gap-toothed grin,
Took his hand, and allowed myself
To be led to the dance floor.
I had no inhibitions during that dance
I didn't seem lanky, and the dress fight just right.
After all, there were no other worries, for
There is only the dance.
Bronze trophy winner
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