Slow Dance

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.