Her Hand In Mine Poem by Denis Martindale

She was a television star
And famed across the land.
Her beauty made me shout, 'Hoorah! ',
As most would understand.
I recognised her standing there,
Within that High Street store,
As if the answer to my prayer,
My dream girl, that's for sure...

Why she worked there, I couldn't say,
Perhaps her fortune changed...
Yet she looked happy in a way,
As she, some clothes arranged...
When I approached, confessing love,
At first, she merely smiled,
As if as gentle as a dove,
With me, her slave, beguiled...

'Please walk with me...' and she agreed.
We left there side-by-side,
Then suddenly I felt the need
That true love cannot hide...
'I want to hold your hand! ' I said,
To my new Valentine.
As if all shyness from her fled,
She raised her hand to mine.

It felt so warm, her arm did, too,
That's why I stroked her skin
And while it felt so strange to do,
She stood there with a grin...
It was as if she realised,
True love cannot conceal
Emotions if so highly prized,
So precious, new and real...

And so we walked, as if alone,
Nobody else in sight,
No longer walking on our own,
While love was at its height.
Of course, I woke, as morning came,
My dream girl to depart...
Yet I will never be the same,
Nor will my thankful heart...


(May 2011)