Stepping Through Time
Maybe Someday
In a honky tonk in Denver forty years ago
I taught a strange brunette beauty how to dance real slow.
Our eyes had met and locked when the lights were way down low.
I was sure I knew her but just how I did not know.
We spoke not a word as we swayed slowly to and fro,
Her perfume had an eastern touch, Boston maybe so.
Her iv'ry skin was perfect with that soft radiant glow
That comes from satin sheets and a sailor's salt air blow.
Our bodies moved to music that said she won't say no,
We laughed together when they did the Cotton - Eyed Joe.
Then she was gone - disappeared -and left a note just so.
It said, "Thank you, cowboy! Maybe someday - Jackie O."
1/23/2017
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