The pavements of stone
Yellow lights from
Lamps on colonial
Lampposts
Aged are the
Buildings
Cracks in the walls
Lights creep out
Lights sneak in
You walk out
Of the dusted
Wooden door
It creaks to announce
Your arrival
All ballads fall short
To describe your dress
Your walk
The subtle yellow light
On your face
And the way you
Don’t talk
Your dress sways
And so do you
Eyes widen
Hearts beat faster
The look from the window
Dusted but clear
I see what I want to
Not the beauty queen
Beside me
I wish it was me
I wish it was me
Who was holding
Your hand
One on the back
To feel the satin
Again
I was
But I want to be
The guy in the black shirt
Rains
It rains over me
Still I practice
Hoping a day would come
We will sweetheart
Dance in the dark.
