The granite sea-wall holds the heat
accumulated through the day
so, side by side, we take a seat
to watch sun set on Cobo Bay.
The taste of fresh-fried fish and chips
is salty when I kiss your lips.
There on the beach, late walkers shift
like friendly ghosts, as down the sun
slips like a red balloon adrift.
Day’s end: yet for us, just begun,
a summer romance, foolish hearts
that quicken when the sun departs.
Richard Fleming
