EMMA

By Peter Woodgate 

I must have been about fifteen

When I first took an interest in girls

There was one, in particular, Emma her name

Beautiful eyes and soft black curls.

Well, of course, I still played football

And cricket and other such sports

But my game went to pot and I thought I’d been shot

When I spied Emma in the shortest of shorts.

I pretended that I hadn’t noticed,

Play it cool was my uppermost thought,

But I gave it away and to my dismay

My trousers were bulging and taught.

I’d been warned by my brother about pretty girls

And the dangers of fancying them,

I guess that is why he made my dad cry

When he started to go out with men.

But this sight was just heaven to me

Tight shorts and a glimpse of her bra

So later that day, behind the school sheds

We snogged but didn’t go far.

Well of course, as you do, I just bragged

Told the boys that we’d gone all the way,

When Emma found out, I heard her shout

“You pig now your gonna pay.

After school on the following day

Emma came up and kicked me, what pain,

The look on my face as her boot caught “that place”

And I never saw Emma again.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate