After the Dance

They took a walk on a Friday night,
Along the beach ‘neath a full moon light.
They had a seat by the old oak tree,
Her head on his shoulder, his hand on her knee

They talked about their hopes and dreams,
And then he talked her right out of her jeans.
Two young lovers just doing what they do,
She was eighteen, he was twenty-two.

He walked her home as she knew he would,
And in the doorway her father stood.
He said, “Hello dear, how was the dance?”
As she tucked her shirt back into her pants.

Her boyfriend noticed her father’s glare,
He looked at the ground to avoid his stare.
A father always seems to know,
He said, “Boy, it’s time for you to go.”

He looked back at her as he walked away,
There wasn’t too much that he could say,
She went to bed with one final thought,
“Will he call me tomorrow or will he not?”