The London Lights Poem by Terry Moore

The night rolls in from the east
The street lamps exude the heat
On this dark December night
The frost begins to bite

Watered sidewalks are of warning
His armed scarf is warming
The cars passing by, under the twinkled sky
There could be no better night in life

The closed shops with their displays
The lights glow upon his face
Is this true, wake me up
I must be falling in love

His smell on his jacket
Has not since begun to slacken
Another night here in London
Might as well be my heaven

My breath stenched of Italian
Hoping it doesn't bother him
I wait for my goodnight kiss
At my door so he'll be missed

The tension is taught, I lean in
His breath is a rot, something hard to believe in
Could this finally be
My perfect man, perfect for me