The Ride Home

My favorite part of the day

Is the ride home with you.

In the cab, with streetlights blurred

As I look out the window

I hear the radio, but only vaguely.

I guess the beating of my heart

Drowns all other sounds.

With our fingers entwined

And your head resting on my shoulder

I smell the sweet scent of spring,

I feel the lovely warmth of summer.

I close my eyes and whisper

A prayer of thanks.

For each day, for thirty minutes

I feel your hand in mine

And your body next to mine

And  I hear my heart whisper

Maybe.

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