This darkened - smoke filled room
Seems like a silly place for people to gather
In such a smelly sardine fashion.
The band on stage finishing up its last number
Of their best set of copy cat blues.
The neon bar sign flashes as if a short
While the bartender bellows out “Last Call.”
One fellow sitting at a table in front of me
Seems to find his nerve.
I suppose enough Jack Black was all that was needed
To make his first move.
A few words pass and then
He leads his new found princess
To the dance floor.
Many leaving, many preparing to leave
As these two begin to dance.
They move perfectly together
Without any sound
Except for the drummer who ends
The beat with a final clamber of sound.
The guitar man leans his weapon against the wall
While the keyboard player turns off his magic.
But the two just keep on dancing.
The bar tender begins swabbing the decks
While an old gray haired man
Sweeps the floors in front of him
Turning the chairs up as he goes.
Sweeping away the memories of this night -
The old man stops to pick up a lost yellow rose
Someone dropped carelessly on the floor.
The old man takes the rose over to the couple dancing
Taping the young man on the shoulder he asks,
“Did ya drop this?”
The fellow, still moving to the imaginary beat responds,
“No sir, but I think she did.”
Taking the rose, holding it in one hand, she doesn’t miss a beat,
Still dancing with her newfound partner.
Walking by my table the old man nods at me
While saying, “It’s time to go.”
Getting up I place my chair on the table
Still watching the couple dancing.
My ears still ringing from the sounds
Of the band as I finish off my water.
And I wonder,
I wonder if I was a drinking man,
One like the one on the dance floor
Tightly absorbed in the moment,
With his new found lady friend
Could that ever be me?
Maybe,
Maybe if I hadn’t dropped the rose….