I miss the way we discussed and not argued.
The way we talked for hours and hours and never lacked for those words to say.
The way time stood still when your questions put me on the spot
but race ahead at full speed when my heart sung to the beat of your 20 drums.
Ah, the way my cheeks flushed in a nature blush when the promise of a few chosen words evoked the most puzzling reaction.
Crimsoned and drained on top yet hot and bothered below.
It was that season when words spoke louder than actions.
When the art of a lover’s deliverer was just as important as the outfit for that date.
I wonder if you ever practised the lines that you feed me
and oh boy did you feed me, I got them smooth and polished.