You park that truck all dented on the street
and amble down my curving path of brick,
and as you raise your eyes to mine, three sweet
and heated feelings center like a wick
inside my heart. So care and passion twine,
and cushion hesitation in a braid
that offers to ignite and overshine
ideas that made me angry and afraid.

Then you consider climbing to my porch
but I head down and open wide the door,
while you and that suggestion light the torch
in me that wick was formed to focus, for
the man who thinks to scale that balcony
just may be capable of climbing me.