She sings her musical repertoire
Dancing alone in her front room
Pretending to play a Spanish guitar
Imagining her Flamenco costume
A rose held lightly between her lips
Dress flowing and swishing the floor
Feeling the touch of his hands on her hips
Her imaginary toreador
Ten years on she’s lost those dreams
One child and one on its way
To tired to chase these old moonbeams
A life in disarray
But sometimes she hears the Spanish guitar play
Childish daydreams rise to the fore
For a moment in time she is swept far away
In the arms of her toreador
