Motorcycle summer dawns,
Luna was magnificent in leather boots
Riding through avenues of flowers
In glorious yesterdays gone.
Laughter emanated from afternoon bars
While sexy gang kids in tattered jeans
And sacred t-shirts
Danced to urban beats on street corners.
There is too much time
For hospital stays
And suicidal departures
After love has faded
Like an exhausted rose.
There is no point
In a dream deferred for eternity
Or sexuality suppressed
For proper societal acceptance.
If you fail to live your romantic kiss,
It has been a perfumeless existence.