Not waving, but drying.
Not surrender, but hope.
Not a reckless abandon
to the uncaring elements,
but a careful reading of the gusts,
of the distant clouds,
of any sign of coming gales.

Not waving, but drying
by a canny application
of my mother's oversized,
double applied,
long-legged, wooden pegs.

Not waving, but drying
by lunchtime.

Your hands in my thighs
while we drive through the city lights.
I wonder if it’s alright?

Your hands are in my waist
while we kiss the night away,
whispering “this is where I wanna be”;
I wonder if it’s alright?

Your words of affection
are leaving me in a trance.
I can’t go back,
can’t breakthrough,
You have someone that loves you
the way that I do,
I wonder if it’s alright?

I’m slipping through my beliefs
All for the love you give
I wonder if it’s alright
To love you like this.

You don't hurt people with a 'No'
You hurt them with a 'Maybe'
When you know the answer
Is 'No'