Lady, I’m still chasing that midnight smile you wore,
the one that flickered like a jukebox halo across the smoky bar.
Your name hums in my engine, turns every highway into a slow dance;
I dial the static, hoping your laughter cracks the rear-view night.
If love’s a rerun, let me be the grainy scene that never fades—
I’ll wait where the porch light leans, a patient pilgrim in the vinyl rain,
till your silhouette learns my shoulder again.