You never stop learning
about human behaviour
You never stop having
to be on your toes
So many torrents of insincerity
So many saying nothing
when you know it’s time to go
Holding onto just being
when it’s time for leaving
Because there’s nothing
new here anymore
Maybe only a few
kind and gentle memories
Broken wings on the dance floor
The writer writes another verse
He’s keeping track of time
Where might the next chapter lead?
Who’ll be at the scene of the crime?
They say that he loved
a few different women
and only married one
He thought they would last forever
But all the strings
somehow came undone
It was really nobody’s fault
Maybe things had
just crossed that thin line
New things and people walked in
And the body clock struck
quarter past time
He tried to find himself
and maybe he did
For once in his life
nothing was kept hid
He met her by chance
or was it through fate?
All he knew was that
change is never too late
He’s been thinking about her
these past few days
Her spontaneity
and joie de vivre
He knew what she wanted
And he gave her even more
Maybe they scared each other
The truth was getting too close
The writer wrote down everything
Random thoughts about everything
he thought he maybe saw
There were scared little people
running around
And some rotten to the core
Maybe all this was one
really bad tooth decay
This was a toothless fairy tale
There was no magic dust
Only more groundhog days
Not many seem to have
Anything of much
consequence to say
So the writer closed his book
He remembered something
she had once said
He needed to get back to dancing
With the gypsy girl inside his head
Copyright © Hans Ebert, June 20, 2023
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