The music pops and warbles,
crooning smooth tunes
over the corporate approved radio
and the woman near me –
you’d expect her to have a bob perhaps, but no –
her hair is a riot
of darker brown with lighter pink
and a few beaming golden tresses ties it all together
and as the espresso steams and the lights dim and
fragrance of peppermint fills the air,
her smile dazzles more brilliant still.
Let’s dance the charleston now and forget
what lies behind
what lies ahead is far better.
Let’s dance my love,
let’s dance.