You step out there, the floor
is vacant and the music begins.
You’ve become a Wal-flower
and hour-by-hour, day-by-day,
you whittle your time away
praying you’ll find a Ginger
to your Fred. But you’re dead
mistaken, for she has taken a turn.
And so you learn to dance by yourself.
Kiss any past alliances bye-bye.
The song is good: a great beat,
easy to dance to, but it’s just you.
Don’t step on your toes.
Lord knows you won’t need to worry
About anyone else’s. You’re on your own.
© Walter J. Wojtanik