We walked past the old acacia tree
It was raining, we were wet, but
she held my hand and pushed on
We sat on a park bench
She laid her head on
my shoulder, and
she told me:
true love
waits*

Wait
she said
We were wet
Her fingers dug
in my shoulders. I
laid her head on the grass
She pulled me close, I pushed on
They could have seen us from the park
as it rained beneath the acacia