With head hung low in shame, I drag myself in, late, but here.
In which I borrow liberally from sources historical, fictional and musical. Part I of several (maybe):
I'll Call Her Jenny
Across the room you glanced at me
And whistled your way so casually
To where I stood, and gracefully
Endured my dancing disability
You whispered your name soft in my ear
I smelled the perfume of your hair
And ordered us both a beer
Shamelessly starting to stare
You laughed so effortlessly
Charming in your youthful ways
I asked you to play, you asked me to stay
I nodded and whisked you away
All night I lay awake in bed
And contemplated what you said
But so many roads cried, "move along"
So I slipped out the door with the dawn
On the road, in the train, I saw your face
I heard your voice inside my head
A laugh, and a wink, and a stolen grace
And a wallet I'd left by your bed
So carry on, move down the line
Let there always be plenty of beer and wine
And my boots, and my hat, are ever signs
That I'm not the staying kind.
Question: Why can't I remember your name?