along the board walk that caresses
the sea, from Green Point past the white and red
lighthouse to the edge of the Waterfront?
I'm not much of a talker but listen
well and would love to see words slip
from your lips, your tongue smudge fresh red lipstick.
Miss Du Pont, let's walk beneath cerulean
skies, our arms joined by warm hands, swinging
like lovers do. Let's walk until you run
out of things to say, then turn back, wrapped
in a comfortable blancket of silence.
Hey baby, drop your cheek onto my shoulder
rest your soul as we walk by runners lanes
lit up by Christmas lights, past the green grass
of lover's picnics and fights, of boys play
and young men's dreams. Rest your soul as we walk
by little girls on swings with daddy near.
Rest your soul Miss Du Pont, as we travel
beneath sun drenched and star studded skies.