My modern knight in pin-striped armor,

dressed as a gangster for Halloween,

with your violin case hanging from your hand

and your hat tucked under your arm.

You walked up to me at the punchbowl,

smiled shyly and offered some chips,

then asked me out to coffee,

didn’t blink when I said I’m coffee free.

We went out for ice-cream,

you had chocolate, I had mint,

we talked all night out on the flat-top,

your coat keeping us from the tarry grit.

It took you three weeks to kiss me,

with that beautifully shy smile

as you asked before you did,

always the polite prince.

To your parents you were their golden boy,

I wasn’t good enough,

and you had never disobeyed them,

not for such a "little" thing.

I watched you pack your stuff,

then leave wordlessly, shamefully,

as though you knew it was wrong,

but I watched you, there, then gone.