I wanted to dance with her. 

If she had agreed— 

oh, how sweet 

to have held her in my arms, 

to have felt her movement, 

to have seen how her hair 

lay against her neck. 

Oh, it would have been nice 

to have had those few minutes 

to whisper, doubtful whether 

the words would be heard 

above the music— 

to have watched her lips 

form the words, to have seen 

the look of mild exasperation 

as the words fell unheard, 

to have watched her smile 

as we danced. 

Oh, it would have been very nice.