Curfew

It took most of the time our folks had granted, yet years would have been fine, you did not flinch at all, returned my timid squeeze and epidermal fluids merged in hopes of life beyond the day. I prayed a bit, would God agree to give me extra flexibility, my arm had reached around and hopeful fingers almost touched the warm and velvet bulge, if she could turn a bit, away look at the silver moon, or its reflection on the lake where swans watched silent as a pair, perhaps to satisfy simple curiosity perhaps to cheer in scratchy baritone. They stayed until the clock announced that penalties would lie in wait, and there was salt and sugar mixed in warm saliva when at last we kissed. The swans had long retired, it was dawn, her dad stood tall, with patience on his lawn.