On the side of the road is my favorite place,
Where I make wishes on the shooting stars of his voice.
And street lights moon dance across his face.
The heat of his breath paints the windows,
And our fingertips trace chaste memories into glass.
Watching eyes see but do not know.
As the clock strikes and the moments pass,
My heart takes photographs:
Still frames of us sitting in the dark.
Silence is so loud;
Unspoken words are said through closed mouths.
He is as humble as a pauper and I am too proud.
His smile makes me promise to never compromise
The heart on his sleeve or the truth in his eyes.
Innocence personified puts his hand in mine.
The ice breaks
A glimmer of emotion in a stoic life.