“Senior Formal (prom)”
The shoes still shine with laughter,
sequins scatter like echoes across the floor.
Every dance step pressed into the night
as if the world itself tilted closer,
to listen to joy stitched into fabric.
Yet under the belt of years,
no vacant holders wait
for childhood’s tokens—
the belt is already crowded,
a museum of contrasts:
games never played,
but triumphs carried in silence,
a wishlist of absences
turned into weight.
So, the child returns,
carrying a night swollen with music,
a ballroom of memory, where sweetness
lingers in the air, bubbly tickles into breath.
The tension is not between loss and gain,
but between what still remains
and what insists on becoming.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 22nd, 2025 05:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
How true Cryptic. Memories remain and even they gain weight over the years. A lovely poem of past happiness marked in occasions remembered. The light dust that blurs them softens them blurring them but leaving a patina of aged value. Aged memories like a fine wine grow better over the years. A lovely write that brought vintage recollections from the past out of my cellar.
arqios, this feels like nostalgia with a pulse… the shimmer, the ache, the years stacked up… you caught the sweetness and the weight at the same time. Well done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
A fine write A.
Life always gets better Rik as we learn from our past.
Andy
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