The moon's exquisite gleam
fills the empty square.
The way his face does beam
shows that love is in the air.
Sitting on the wishing well,
He gently takes my hand.
In my hair, he puts a bluebell
and my heart expands.
Oh, right. This is not my story.
It belongs to the couple skating on ice.
I know nothing of love or glory,
so in case you want advice,
I will give my two cents,
but don't listen if you have sense.
