Outside the Red Room

Sitting at the bar in the red room. Jazz and laughter swirling around.

I see your face. Focus on you at this party. We share a glance, I get a chill.

But I'm too shy to speak to you first. I just want to fall in love tonight.

I turn away. Never give you a chance. Never taking that chance.

To find out if you are thinking what I'm thinking. What am I thinking?

You turn away, order a drink. Keeping you in the corner of my eyes.

I walk into the other room. Leaving the jazz behind.

I hope to see—but then—there you are again.

Are you real? Are you alone? Are you falling in love tonight?

You, staring at the dance floor. Longing to be there.

Or somewhere. With me? Me too. I want this dance all to myself.

I finish this drink. And my head spins. I take your hand.

We leave all this music behind. We go outside, to talk, to listen.

Lost in your eyes, lost in time tonight. I must admit:

I want to rush in. I want to know what might come.

To take a chance and just walk over. Buy you that drink.

I want to kiss you. But then—

We do. In the red room. In the jazz. On the dance floor.

Again, outside. Under a mirror ball moon.

Back at my place, this night together. Two strangers, drunk.

Looking for love, looking for each other. The sun comes up.

I'm in bed, alone. You linger on the sheets and on my mind.

Now the jazz seems so far away. Was it a dream? Am I in love?

I have to go back. To the red room. To hear the jazz. To hear the laughs.

Go back to that night. Did we even speak? Did I approach?

Or was it you? Standing there beneath the flashing lights.

Did I fall in love? Did you? Were you—was it—

Real?

But—why wonder? What happened that night.

Why look back to the dance floor? To the drinks.

To the music. And the words I spoke, and to the ones I didn't.

Back to when I thought I wanted to fall in love.

To find something fast. Or to last forever.

All wishes come true, to jazz and drinks.

To the music we dance to. Outside the red room.