Many years since she had been called electrifying.
It was in the Mecca Ballroom.
He had greasy hair,
a bit of a git,
she could tell.
“I’m off to University”,
he said.
“To study Engineering”,
he said.
“You wouldn’t understand”,
he said.
“No matter, because you are electrifying.
If you would but let me touch you
I would surely feel the shock,
a tingle down my spine”.
Not the first time he had used these lines,
she could tell.
Now, 20 years later,
much water had flowed
under their respective bridges.
She saw him,
working in the local café.
She sat sipping her coffee,
pouring over
the plans
of her latest
electrical project.

Malcolm Henshall