Maybe next time

She looks bored sitting here at our table
empty glass of beer in front of her
I am inclined to entertain,
stand on my head, or tell a joke
anything to brighten the light in her eyes again
I search for something clever to say,
but now I find I am a poet who is lost for words.
They say first impressions are the most important
and my hands sweat at the thought of speaking to her
and I take deep thick gulps of my own beer
hoping that I can keep my mind of her beautiful dark hair
Or perhaps That i can find somewhere in the bottom of the glass
a reason to say something,
A reason to make a connection across the cavern that separates us
I light my pipe, and look convincingly deep in thought
I can't help but watch her from across the table, so elegant so soft
As i open my mouth to say something smart and witty the next band starts
It is loud in the bar and our earplugs only provide a little protection.
I feel vulnerable, like I ought to break free and be bold
But my hands tremble, and all I can ask is "do you want another beer?"
Chocked for more than that I sit here silent, brooding, poetic and boring.
She still looks bored, all I want to do is go home
and cuddle deep in my blankets warm in my bed.
Maybe next time I'll say the right words
Maybe next time I'll ask her to dance
and we can sing together under the crescent moon.
Maybe next time bravery will prevail and I will do something
But for now I finish my beer, shake a few hands and
walk out of the bar alone.
Maybe next time it will be different.