The Excuse Me Copyright © Sally Warrell 2011

When Grandmamma told the story
Of how she met Grandpapa,
He would open one eye to stare,
The only one he could see with;
A beam of sunlight through curtains
Captures the golden flakes of dust,
Like an old movie projector
Spooling time back into the past.

It was an excuse me at a dance,
He the slick, dark haired stranger
Who stepped into the circle she
Made with her now unknown partner,
Clasped her slim, silk clad waist to him
And with her arm on his shoulder,
Whispered his promises in her ear,
Spun her away into the waltz.

He would wait for her he said next
Night, outside the door of the church.
So she waited, No Grandpapa,
Until after the clock had tripped
Over itself twice and twice struck.
Only then she recalled, two doors
To the church, hurried back to find
Him waiting at the other door.