Oxford Ball in June

She wasn’t my type I’ve never gone for hype

But the rich sometimes like to look over the mansion wall

To see what the peasants are doing

I guess Lords in waiting can wait a bit longer

She had beautiful hair and eyes that hauled you in

Speaking perfect English practicing perfect French

Surrounded by her suitors acting cute and coy

Whilst wondering about the life of a working class boy                    

Her time at Oxford would be ending soon

She was looking forward to the Ball in June

In her black gown she made men feel small

I was working at the bar laughing at it all

Surrounded by dinner suits so far out of their reach

I imagined they were penguins waddling on a beach

I took a break for 30 minutes watching the rich at play

Knowing their bountiful tomorrows are already here

She suddenly appeared out of firework smoke

I’ve been watching your disinterest with interest she said

I said you’re just visiting the social zoo with a poking stick

She laughed and asked my name I said what’s yours

Annabelle from London she replied

That’s an amazing surname and she laughed again

I went back to work collecting empty tumblers

She handed me a piece of paper with her telephone number

I’d like to see you before I leave town maybe do lunch

I said it will be have to somewhere remote

As I can’t let my social class see you with me

She laughed with tears in her eyes I think that sealed the deal

We met for lunch in a country pub

Then went for wine later on

I liked how she laughed so much

Maybe she was collecting them

To use when she felt sad

I guess social conventions get you like that

We woke up in her room and counted the sunbeams

Bouncing off the wooden floor

I won’t tell if you won’t we agreed

I kissed her goodbye and closed the door.

©JMcN 2018