Word Work

Writing is courtship. Writing is work. Writing this almost didn’t happen tonight. Weariness put up a fierce fight for my time.



Word Work


They dance just out of reach.
I follow, resolute in this
turn around the dance floor.
Coy glances. A hint of leg.
Their refusal, at first, to see
my hand, palm up and open,
like my heart. Its beating,
a tattoo beneath the dress
I picked out special
for this occasion. I know
their worth. I’m eager
to prove I’m worthy.
Tired of pretending to be
demure, they crowd me.
So close, I see the flash
just before
they set me awhirl.

Curious to see more of my writing?  Visit me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – on Facebook, Twitter, and my website.

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