I was born too late,
In the wrong era.
I am bewildered by today,
By the people who are so consumed
With the next moment
That they cannot appreciate now,
These people who fear the night,
Who are afraid to dance.

I ache for the Roaring Twenties,
To be a flapper,
Cut my dresses short,
My hair shorter.
I'd wear ruby red lipstick,
And dance until the sun rose
At a smoke-filled black and tan
To a live swing band.
There'd be a trumpet player with fingers aflame,
Whose notes touched the night sky,
Sparkled among the stars.
I want my love story set to jazz so real,
You could reach out and touch it,
Slip into it,
Get lost inside.
I long to put on high heels,
Drink champagne,
And charm handsome, well-dressed men
With the mystique that comes from confidence
And dim lighting.

One day, everyone dies,
But until then, not everyone lives.
In the twenties, they did it up right,
Taking all they could,
Living every moment,
Snatching every chance to dance.

If only I had a time machine,
But, alas, I'm stuck in today,
Stranded like a meteorite fallen from the endless night sky,
Somewhere I don't belong.