Liza

The 20's would have been good to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We would have been sitting on top of the world.

Listening to that sweet jazz music and smoking the finest cigars.

My pants would be pressed, your lips would bleed red and we wouldn't need a television to do the talking.

 

The streets would shine so bright, it's as if anything you'd ever need in life was right there.

As we walked down the streets we would hear the tapping of feet, and singing.

And of course, the dancing.

 

You'd whisper in my ear "How 'bout it", and the way you were dressed, I couldn't decline.

We took off our coats, set down our drinks and started to move.

You took my hand, I grabbed your waist and no words needed to be said.

When that song came on, I knew it was ours.  It was called "Liza", and life was perfect.

We swung our legs and moved our hips and I don't think we ever broke eye contact.

We spun and dipped and swooned.

 

Love

 

It was funny because we weren't drunk.

We were filled with music. The Roaring 20s were good to us, and we knew that this was not just some old feeling, passed down from lovers.

 

When the song ended, I said "Shine on Liza."

 

I still remember that song, and your blood red lipstick. And I finally know why I lie awake at night and dream all day long.

 

It's because I care.

 

Liza.