She arrived at eight,
    steakhouse dreams in tow—
    one tomahawk,
    big enough to share,
        enough to indulge,
               to linger over.

The Cardinals played host,
    we ate,
       laughed,
       cheered,

       filled the night with simple joy.

By the ninth inning—
   win secured,
   Rangers game flickering in the background—
   baseball gave way to kisses,
                          hugs,
        sweeter than any score.

Hours folded like blankets,
          pillow talk soft,
     then a goodnight kiss,
             goodnight hug
       that stays with you
 even after the door shuts.

Tomahawk and tiebreakers,
      last night a feast,
       tonight a contest—

          trivia waiting.

Irby’s filled with Owls,
     questions circling,
       songs in the air,
         answers flying.

Me?

Hoping she’s there,
       so we can steal
       another sweet kiss,
       just a few more hugs,

       'tween the questions and answers.