Curfew Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

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.