image: by pauchok

Pacific Pier–8:57 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday Eve:

“Before I let you go, can I get a kiss good night, Love?”

“Just maybe,” she blushes, “but only if you’ll recite me a moonlight poem.”

Upon clearing his throat, closer he pulls her, no air between, gathers his thoughts, and bares his creative soul:

“What light through yonder nightsky blings
To yours, my sweet, my heart doth clings,
From one thousand leagues under the sea
The millionth naut shall I swim to thee,
My arms to you belong, thine arms alone
will carry your spirit as my very own,
Thy romance I proffer–goodbye yesterlife’s sorrow
For I ask the moment of your hand tomorrow . . .”

Her contented sigh lingers beneath her still-closed eyes as the requested kiss is rendered with aplomb.

“But tomorrow?” she asks.

“Yes, tomorrow,” he gazes toward the moon, then returns to her glinting eyes.

“It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.”

_____________________________

***

Romance lives. -Rg2

Would you mind company Friday?

© 2014 Romance by Rg2®