She was a beauty by my side,
filled with Nordic pride.
I thought about marrying her,
a thought I could not hide.

The Summer of Love was over,
but not its vibrant hippie jive.
We stopped at the Swiss Chalet,
an unlikely rock 'n' roll dive.

Ordered drinks and to the dance floor,
when the music burst forth, serene,
the walls were warm and fuzzy,
we danced, a mesmerizing scene.

She said her drink was watered-down,
the bartender kindly obliged.
Our dancing night was over,
to my studio apartment we arrived.

With the music playing to our dance,
she seemed to come to me just so,
but in our passionate embrace,
she called me Eric and said no.

Our night together was over,
I took her home to her place.
After a week away at a NYC wedding,
she disappeared without a trace.