On a cold October night,
Several years past,
Is the night he remembers,
Under the gazebo
On a foor of crisp leaves that crunched,
He convinced her to dance
Under those twinkling string of artificial lights and the moon itself,
She swayed with the rhythm of his ticking watch,
As her heels hit the ground with the rhyme of their chemistry.

But presently he sits in her old chair holding the pins from her hairdo,
Sighing and recalling their October night,
The night where she first gave him a ghost of a smile,
And held his hand.

So now he dances with his "ghost",
And with whiskey on his breath he whispers some advice to the heartbroken:

"Just a waltz and one more drink of pity."