I wake up from the daily slumber, determined to make this weekend worth a catch,
I struggle through few clicks & smileys, voila!! I got a match.
I reach the place in time,
Shit !!
I got to find a line to make it rhyme.
She walks past the stage while the band plays baby’s in black,
She trudges as though she owns the place & obviously the Beatles’ track.
She has short hair, wearing little black dress, boots, all combined with just right amount of fragrance,
Please let her be cool enough to get all GoT, Friends & other pop reference.
She sure as hell is educated and pockets a lot of money,
She is probably what Mr. Morrison would call a Tupelo Honey.
She could be an engineer, an teacher, an angel, in my world she can be all of these things,
In someone’s imagination, people have no limits, when you don’t know them a lot, you can give them mighty wings.

But the walk is over, for sure the place ain’t no highway,
While taking a closer look, her lips are too red & hair may have few shades of grey.
Is it just style ?
For my taste in fashion is pretty vile.
She takes the next seat and orders Italian food and wine,
At least her taste for tangible fancies is just fine.
Judging by her disdain for the song, she may be no honey.
I begin to suspect, would I be wasting this precious evening & bit of money.
Tales of college, romance and fancy make her glad,
All that positivism & panache, she does not seem too bad.
She is confident, classy and proud of her origins & folks,
But I judge her a lot, as she does not get any of my jokes.
Oh boy! you and your mighty self interest,
Before judging the poor lady, in her, did you for once, trust.
But do I need to,
She for sure talks like mother of few.
Withing few hours she goes from an angel to a bee,
I can not wait to walk out free.
Well may be, this how real people are, there are limit to them,
They love, talk, care & share… Alas there are no wings on them.

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