Auburn hair, black dress on pale white skin. And eyes, eyes of light sky blue. A cloud passing through.
It takes a while of silent gaze, of silent gaze and quiet thought, before I start to say a word. Confusion, curiosity and then unease pass her eyes. Relief too, when I finally start to say a word.
The music's loud and people shout. To hear themselves above the din. In darkness and black closing shroud, there is no other way to declare yourself. They drown me, and my words, in my own timidity. She loses interest.
A tall, blonde guy from behind me takes her attention. A polite nod and a mumbled excuse, she extends her hand and walks off too.
I guess when it's really hopeless to say, even my imagination cannot help me sway the fruits of success down by my way.
So I tell myself I like it so. I prefer it so. For a poet I am, and how long would I remain one in the sweet, sunny realms of success, fun and play?