Christopher Wild

Dan­cing Like She Meant It

I was gaz­ing aim­lessly out the window,
pay­ing little attention
to the mul­ti­tude of things passing by me,
A young girl in the street
was dan­cing like she meant it,
I was just star­ing right through her,
I was think­ing of oth­er things.

I was driv­ing along the motorway,
singing to the tunes on the radio,
I wasn’t aware of where I was going,
didn’t care where I was com­ing from,
I seemed to reach my destination,
I couldn’t remem­ber how I got there,
I was think­ing of oth­er things.

I was drink­ing cappuccino,
in a small side street cafe with some name­less faces,
we were remin­is­cing on things done and seen,
I had an awaken­ing, real­ised I was forty years older,
I was star­ing into the eyes of my daughter,
and she was dan­cing like she meant it,
I was think­ing of oth­er things.

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