My lover isn't exactly
Your conventional sort of
Prince charming.

He has neither a white horse
Nor a golden chariot -
He takes me for rides
On his moped instead.

We cruise the city -
Traffic lights, streetlights
Yellow lights, green lights
Red lights, blue lights
White lights, bright lights
No lights

But still we ride onward
Catch a storm or two
Race them for fun.

Soaked to the bone
The wind is cold
But my heart
And his skin
They are warm

They warm me.