Chance Meeting... (End not in sight)

Tumbling through an open door
Not sure what will lay before
Eyes dance across dim light
Until the moment of first sight
Slipping deftly from his seat
Now's the time to chance-it-meet
A warm embrace
First brush of face
Arms wrap around
Momentary pause of sound
No time for thought
The table left is sought
Then the bar's bubbling chat
Rises up just like that
In amongst the city shabby chic
He stands strong full of speak
And after some talk and think
He offers to buy the first drink
And as he stands at the bar
She can study him from afar