Coattails

Dashing,
They skirted the floor,
He felt and felt he heard,
The scraping of dusty shoes on treaded hardwood,
But all he saw,
And all he cared to see,
Was those flying curls,
With the blur of that backroom parlor,
And her smile,
It held so much power in so small a space,
It gave him confidence to lead,
In circles circles circles,
She was his,
If just for these seconds,
Etched as if into a childhood tree,
Harboring an old tire swing,
Filled with fresh rainwater,
And Hope.
Her laugh,
Only he could hear it through this music,
"If you don't love me let me go,"
Circles Circles Circles,
It was all he knew now,
She was Eve and they were restored,
The lights swelled,
The din rose,

It was all so very fleeting.

**For Aubrie, a very beautiful person of whom I have seen not a single picture. (Quoted passage from "The Engine Driver" by The Decemberists-catch it.) **