Make me a high school cliché;
Won’t you make me your sweetheart?
Because you're already my
Midnight driving, old-school
Diner milkshake with two straws,
White wall tires on a thunderbird,
1 a.m. backstreet racing rush
In my shy and rosy cheeks,
Courtyard harmonica and acoustic
Playing soft melodies with honey
Harmonies about the hummingbird,
Humming my name under the low
Lights of the Saturday sock-hop,
Dancing goofy and all too groovy,
Making a beat of our own,
Converse and chuck high-tops,
Swapping shoes because we can,
Tapping rocks on your window,
Hiding flowers in your locker
To remind you that it’s Tuesday,
Picking you an apple from
The tree where we had our
First kiss as the sun kissed
Our skin turning the moment golden,
Bike rides down silent streets
Of Narnia lamps in autumn
As it rains bronze leaves,
Friday night football games
Cuddled up in blankets on the
Frozen bleachers that sway us
As the crowd roars a silent symphony,
Two cans and one string means
Late nights spent sharing secrets,
Flying kites down by the lake,
Skipping moon-shine stones
On the rippling pond that spreads
In every direction as we fold
Into each other under the shade of
The paddle boat we rented for the day,
Silly string fights on Halloween,
And horror movies on Thanksgiving,
Cups of hot chocolate as we watch
The Christmas Eve parade under
The light of the town center tree,
Basement stories of inside jokes,
Jukebox tunes and record needles,
Catching the wishing stars with our mitts
Laying on the hood of my dad's car
After the early spring baseball game,
Pink prom dress and powder-blue tux,
You make me a high school cliché;
I wouldn't have it any other way.