The Joys of Holding Tight
I think the best love we ever made was on the street that night
when we stood as one listening to a black quartet sing.
Their smiling gospel hymns and snap snap fingers and tap tap feet
backing the notes held momentarily in the breeze,
yes it was there that the acoustics of old red brick
brought to us the joys of holding tight.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
