I wrote the following poem after Valentine's Day in 2011, and today promises to be more of the same. The middle school hallway is already strewn with rose petals and earlier in the week I heard seventh grade girls bewailing the ways of seventh grade boys. It's going to be one of those days.
In the courtyard
Outside the eighth grade English class
On Valentine's Day
Two senior girls are holding armloads of red roses.
Sadly I am not one of the senior girls
Or even one of the eighth grade boys staring at them
But instead the teacher of the English class
Standing in the front of the room
And droning on.
How can I compete with the graceful flower-laden goddesses?
How can anything I have to say on Valentine's Day
Interest an eighth grade boy
When such girls exist
And when other girls exist
For whom one might buy roses,
At least in theory?
And how can a poem about love
Rival love itself:
This real girl in the next seat
At the thought
That some of those roses
Might be for her?
Ruth, from thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
Here's today's Poetry Friday roundup.
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