I wanted to dance with her.
If she had agreed—
oh, how sweet
to have held her in my arms,
to have felt her movement,
to have seen how her hair
lay against her neck.
Oh, it would have been nice
to have had those few minutes
to whisper, doubtful whether
the words would be heard
above the music—
to have watched her lips
form the words, to have seen
the look of mild exasperation
as the words fell unheard,
to have watched her smile
as we danced.
Oh, it would have been very nice.

Hanque O . . .

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dance-not-danced/