In Derby there is an old fashioned department store, similar to many, where the well-to-do now take afternoon tea amongst china figurines that you know you just dare not touch.
This poem came out of there some time ago. Ideas come from the strangest places sometimes.
Minty had the lines to compliment and tease
the tightest smiles from guarded faces though he
thought his talent wasted, his eloquence denied.
For he mourned the lack of classy girls in this town
so he fashioned his resources and
worked his material to suit each occasion.
Then, hiding from the winter’s scowl in Homeware,
kicking silver plated heels in Cutlery and Curtain Poles,
the classless town came through.
Statuesque, she stood, ringing changes
to familiar tunes, with her jet black hair
falling on white capped shoulders.
There, she lifted gifts from jewelled shelves
and bent her slender waist to stoop from view,
lost in the joy of idle thought.
Her fingers kissed the porcelain, the gilt and gold,
her turquoise ring, and when she wrapped
the cherished gift for travelling she smiled
a hundred smiles in mirrors. The centre of the showcase.
And innocent of the stir she caused she played
out her role of Venus rising.
She turned and caught his wondered
stare, smiled her showcase smile, and offered
him her help as she was taught to do.
And he, awoken from his daydream and
faced with this disarmament, was left to say
that he loved the curve of gravyboats…..and would she….?