He's in the pub
When she walks in.
Romeo's slow realisation of a grin
Rises over the low hum
Of background chit-chat.
His pulsing drum
Marks the tap of her dancing gait,
And his soul sings.
A chink of glasses rings around
A bubble of laughter
From revellers crowded conspiratorially,
Pop-picking party tunes.
Their classic jukebox ditty
Rouses an anthem
They sing along to.
Romeo's heart serenades her
And his eyes shine intently
At how lightly the air turns crisp and clear
As she drifts within reach of his touch.
Amidst the hops and rye,
It's almost too much to resist
The urge to blush his lips
On her Strawberry Kiss.
Romeo catches his breath, and inhales.
The scent of her radiates
Regales brighter than
The illuminated concentration
On a pint sipper's brow,
Focused on the quiz machine poser.
As his mouth waters at her aroma,
Romeo moves a tad closer.
She'd sink him to his knee
If he weren't propping up the bar.
Hers was a far cry from those
He'd seen of late in this place.
Licking his lip
At what awaited him
And his jackpot hot date,
Romeo bravely embraces fate
Just as his Adonis mate
Throws her a line to hook and sink her.
Reels her in nearer
With an accomplished smile
And a juniper treat.
Her hand brushes Adonis and sweet victory
As her real chance for true love
Is frozen by the moment.
Gone like water through fingers
She's lost from our Romeo's grasp.
His shoulders slump, his demeanour changes
And as Cupid's bow bares no favours,
He graciously accepts defeat and retreats.
But for a fleeting last glimpse,
In consolation, our Romeo thinks:
"She's probably a slag anyway!"