Met you on a Sunday, it was getting dark,
Too late for a stroll, in the local park.
Decided on a drink in a trendy bar,
Before taking you home in my little car.

I watched you spell-bound as you walked to the door,
Entranced by your grace, had I been a bore?
You turned around waving and drew me a smile,
I drove off into the night to think for a while.

You were dressed in blue in a chic little suit,
I thought your dainty ankles looked so cute.
You have your own style, sweet and neat,
Classy by choice you always look a treat.

You gave me your number to call you at night,
I hear about your week, you tell me you're all right.
Your mood is happy, your tone is high,
The time we spend talking, flies quickly by.

Ever so slowly, weekend comes round,
Where together, we are happily found.
Out at the movies, in for a drink,
Sometimes freezing, down at the rink.

Monday arrives all too soon,
I'm missing you madly well before noon.
So I think of the weekend to keep me going,
My heart,beating softly, silently glowing.

Written & (c) John McKay Withey 1993