Andre Poem by LeeAnn Azzopardi

His eyes of blue
His silken blonde hair
The rows of prefect, white teeth
He still dances across my mind
Even after twenty-five years
How those lips floated on the stage floor
As we were probably the same age
O'Andre, my sweet cabaret dancer
You're the dove I fell for in Paris
But we never met
Now, single and middle-aged
I wonder what my little bird is
Doing
I hope you didn't fall
As I have fallen in the grips of the mundune