This is Mary Morris's poem that I promised to put on the blog.
Cynthia
THE DANCE
It was at the weekly dance
Where you can find romance
That we waltzed around the floor
To the music I adore
As he held me near
I felt a little queer
Something hard was between us
But I didn’t want to make a fuss
Frank then sensed my fear
And quickly made it clear
As my face grew paler
It was only his inhaler
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