Windsong

( a Quatern )
 
Seems everybody else is going home,
I look around and all I hear is wind.
I stroll across a leaf-strewn patio,
The magic of a night that won’t begin.
 
The place is quiet, you can hear a pin,
Seems everybody else is going home.
I find my bag and coat when I go in,
Did I come with a date, someone I know?
 
I sip a flute of flat champagne and go
Out to the green, the wind begins to press.
Seems everybody else is going home,
It swirls around my clingy sequin dress.
 
I feel the night has eyes to take a chance,
A scented breeze as gentle whispers flow:
Excuse me, lover, may I have this dance,
Seems everybody else is going home.