creative writing

An Awkward Quadrille

We giggled in the courtyard,
Doing impressions of his coy advances.
The way he bites his lip,
His clumsiness as he dances.
His eyelids raised, revealing nerves.
He spluttered: “A beautiful undress”.
Perhaps that is what he really meant,
A Freudian slip, no less.

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In response to dVerse’s quadrille challenge #105 found here