We met again, in the rain this time
on bikes, in a road
with my tongue knotting, hands shaking, 
the bird in my mouth, fluttering— 
                                      my knees were weak
wobbled, toppled, 
                                      fell off to the pavement
the bike wrapped around me like an exhausted
lover, 
          rain pooled in my clenched lids. 

I opened my eyes, you there leaning, 
breath tasted like kindness, 
irises broke a melody in two
                                      beat through me. 

You asked, 
                                       (I was stunned by your beauty) 
                   whether I wanted to go for tea
and whether I was okay
                   I smiled before I spoke
my voice guttered, quivered, choked

the cars made a line behind
horns wailed
we didn’t care.

- M. R. Wallis

again, from the collection I'm completing