Beneath the facade
The opposite awaits
So few though, I let in
Because my friend,
This heart of mine,
It may not be a temple
But make no grave mistake
For it’s neither a brothel

The bullet rumbled to a stop,
Its black - clad rider at the top.
Dark glasses, leather jacket, youthful spring,
Majestic with the helmet swing.

The world round him, seemed to slow,
A playful glow, his eyes did show.
Entranced by the lady across the street,
Falling for her, advances he on quick feet.

The gorgeous girl but glanced around,
The knight in shining armour, did abound.
Returned rejected to his steady stallion,
Defeated in, the great battalion.

Her high heels, clicked in beat,
As the faint rumbling, reduced the heat.
If the prince, should ever find,
A scrawled number, in his pocket hind.

Would not we all, love to know,
What did follow !!!