I caught your eye as you glanced my way.
As we nodded to sounds of jazz
in a dimly lit room.
Hot and stuffy inside,
the wind sang our chorus outside.
(It must be the wind…)
or it could be the feeling, as they say in Jazz.
The glance struck!
and I was defeated by its charm -
Not the in-your-face kind I’m well acquainted with,
that often leaves me ranting.
But quiet, unexpected, sweet.
(It must be the wind…)
or it could be the feeling, as they say in Jazz.
I hoped you would look my way again.
(again and again)
Except this time I would pull you close,
- closer now,
so that your eyes and lips meet mine.
