There's a certain youth that he missed the first time around.

A spring in step, a key gear unwound.


(The writer's eye is unbiased.

He clearly saw something that took a while to cultivate.)

In the same time-space that it took for her, something magical happened.

Colours exploded on the dance floor, unspoken desires (perhaps a few wet *******) sweat and passion all in simultaneous eruption.

Perhaps he'll give this a spin.
Dropping and closing his eyes, blissfully unaware whether there is trust or not.