Oh, I always seem to stay too long,
But only on the night.
I guess it's the lure of alcohol,
Or the dimming of the lights.
Perhaps she pulled me in again,
Possibly just a proposal to dance?
I am sure I was to leave an hour ago,
But got caught in the wrong stance.


I'd see lights through the winter windows,
Hear laughter and the sound of glasses touching elsewhere,
My lips would be parted, my eyes downward, I'm sure I've overdressed,
Oh will he see brown dress, gold brocade?
'I thought you made dinner earlier?'
I lacked enthusiasm, drive.
Tonight will be a sombre occassion, I hear you arrive.

I suppose I am distracted by the palms of your hands,
The cupping of arms and a distant orchestra.
Light is flickering some where, and yet we remain in the dark,
Steam from the train guards our goodbye.

'You're much like the quiet of early Christmas morning', she said,
And laid her head upon his chest.
He didn't reply, but he opened his eyes,
The scent of red wine lingered near the bed.