Seven,
eleven,
thirty-one,
four six five,
her number,
call me she said,
call me,
anytime,
she with the red lipstick in a black dress,
at a social event,
her with the magnificent eyes,
and her with the beautiful smile,
and legs that seemingly went on for miles,
and me being the jaded kind,
took it politely,
whilst thinking,
what could she want from me?
What could I offer her,
for I am not a beauty as she,
but I have my wiles and my mind,
and although it was a moments conversation,
a crossing of paths,
visions of romance floated stupidly through my mind,
and I was mesmerised, and I was beguiled,
with fantasies of what could be,
and probably hopeless dreams,
hopeless dreams of her being genuine,
oh, what beautiful torture,
oh, the jaded me,
the happy me,
the hopeful me,
walking away already with thoughts of she,
and great romance on my mind,
but the reality,
what will it be?
I will just have to cross my fingers and we shall see,
we shall see what happens,
all in good time.