Oh what a night,  we leaned against my car
        your face lifted to mine, our eyes began it

        misty suburban street in the midnight hour
        the texture, the movement, your lips urging mine

        our mouths caught by a tender gravity
        your weightless body, spring came to our planet

        the heat of July is an opaque air
        without your clear, concentrated warmth

        Lady, your kisses are memorable

© Bob Rixon