Making your mind Up

n Dublin’s grand theatre, where dreams alight, A hush fell over the expectant crowd that night. Bucks Fizz stepped forth, hearts aflutter, Their song, a secret spell, ready to utter. The melody wove through the air like silk, A tapestry of hope spun from the moon’s milk. “Making Your Mind Up,” they sang, voices pure, And the audience leaned in, eager to endure. But it wasn’t just lyrics—they held the key, To realms beyond the stage, where magic be. For as they sang, the skirts began to sway, Not mere fabric, but portals to another day. Each twirl released stardust, silver, and gold, And the crowd gasped, their souls unrolled. The blind could see, the weary danced free, In that Eurovision moment, reality ceased to be. The lead singer, eyes wide, whispered a plea, “Let this song bind hearts, set our spirits free.” And the skirts spun faster, a celestial waltz, As if the very universe joined their pulse. The audience, spellbound, forgot their woes, Lost in the rhythm, where time’s river flows. And when the final note hung in the air, They knew—they’d glimpsed a world rare. For Bucks Fizz were not just singers that night, They were weavers of wonder, stars alight. Their skirts, like compasses, pointed beyond, To lands where love danced, and dreams responded. So let us remember that Dublin stage, Where music and magic merged, age after age. And when life feels grey, and choices weigh, Invoke the twirl of skirts—their eternal ballet.