Ballroom

I woke up to a morning fog
And smells that taint our hair
A weekend of fire and shows
Leaving its mark in the air

A wholemeal loaf for breakfast
And a cup of tea to start
My sleepy eyes awakening
A rippling in my heart

Drifting off on a bus
A newspaper not my own
A book that's already read
Discarded but not thrown

I met a friendly face
One which has been absent for a while
My past week of fun over
And I must to return with style

I camped at the back of a musky library
Thoughts my own and hidden from others
Helping only myself but talking
To a friend who daily mothers

I sat back and admired my work
Drifted into a waking snooze
Knocked billiard balls
Though I knew I would lose

Off I ran to music and refuge
From philosophy, from thought
Stuck the kettle on instantly
For Yorkshire tea that was specially bought

Music we played to while away the hours
Whilst lovebirds sang amongst the winter flowers
The pub a ballroom for our evening dance
The gig is theirs but the euphoria ours