I’m sitting on your porch
while you play with my hair.
You’re talking about the boy you like;
tall, blond and handsome.
(I might be blushing from more than just the heat.)
I’m sitting on your porch
while you cry-- big, heaving sobs.
That boy hurt you, I bet.
(If it was me, I’d always love you
and cherish everything you'd let me.)
I’m sitting on your porch
while you ramble about some pop star.
You look beautiful like this;
Breeze in your hair, a twinkle in your eyes.
(I don’t realise I’ve kissed you until your arms are around my neck.)
We’re sitting on your porch
books, lemonade, gossip forgotten
as I melt into your arms,
tracing constellations on your freckles.
(Your lips are a little chapped,
but I love them more with every kiss you press onto mine.)
(Yeah, I think I’m in love with you.)