It is 12: 47.

It is pitch black outside.

Your bright lights flicker a yellow shine down the long road.

I creep down the wooden stairs

And try not to wake those from their slumber.

Carefully closing the creaky, rusty front door,

I secretly smile to myself knowing I will soon see your face.

Your firm arms hold me in a long embrace

That I wish could last forever.

You gently rub the side of your face against mine like silken robes.

I inhale a deep, long whiff of the air

That captures your amazingly sweet, comforting scent.

We sit on the cold driveway, the millions of twinkling stars

Watching us at our secret meeting place.

Just one hour goes by so quickly as we talk about

Everything.

Anything.

Nothing - nothing because we often sit in silence,

Enjoying each other's company.

Our lips do not touch once - I do not care.

You escort me back to the loud front door

That does not keep our meeting a secret.

You whisper "Good-night."

I look back, Your lean silhouette

Stares back at me, until I step safely inside.