There’s a pipe on the sill and the window open wide
I can hear the radio playing from somewhere inside.
An old man lies sleeping, I can even hear him snore
as an old lady dances while doing some chore.
She’s humming along and spinning round and round
thinking back to her youth and the memories she’s found.
Back when life was simple and feeling love was new
and he was so handsome and knew just what to do.
The music stops so suddenly that she is caught mid-dance
and I hear their roars of laughter, the sound of true romance.
poem © copyright Brian Shirra 2012