You always perplexed me with notions of romanticism
like the lamps of Paris
as they cast doubtful shadows on cobble pavements
as the mysterious lull of midnight serenaded the air

Let me drive now, down alleys
of narrow nostalgia, under bridges
of notions, disproven, yet beautiful non-the-less
if only for this moment, this point in time

For to love is to lose
and I thought my stubborn fingers
would never part from your coarse skin
as we sat beneath the stars

Could I not have fooled myself?
for one more quiet evening