Country dancers are now afoot,
turning figures, trading gossip.
They are tripping ere so lightly
across a polished parquet floor.
The hall holds a slight glamour
that disguises the peeling walls.
Our hostess hides in a shadowed
corner, concentration deep with
focus; she even shows a smiling
vision of herself, circulating, but
beyond reach. Like any hostess.
A young suitor, shy and sodden,
sits aslant the massed dancefloor.
Watches her intently while softly
muttering a most ardent soliloquy.
Sees her though she sits in shadow.
Waiting for his slightest chance to
reach her and breach her glamor.
Is her love or conquest he craves?
For in the moment he succeeds, he
will surely understand he’s failed.
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