He sidles on up alongside her, a pretty blue-eyed girl’s loosened dress strings
Dangle atop, then tickle his hand
To corrupt his damn near everything – to touch a piece of her rather imagined bohemian-like history, unsuspecting closeness
All of this in a peculiar whereabouts instance
The tide is high, cheap bottle of Red Wine tip-the-lips nigh
These precious times are trying to oh so suddenly amount to something downright spectacular
When a stirringly sentimental impression is made, all in drunken haste
Right before the soliloquy parade endeavours to take ferociously devoted aside altogether romantic hold of itself
Caresses the young lives right from them – to never, ever have to look back again