A (Very) Belated Valentine's Poem
“The poplars—see how they sway
tonight?”
He murmured beneath the soft moonlight.
“Ah,”
she rejoined, “ah but my dear,
Those
are telephone poles.” He pulled her near
And pressing her closer to his chest,
He whispered, “In that bush—there,
look!—a nest—
And perched beside it—hear you that?
A nightingale!” She sighed,
“A
bat.”
“But the roses,” he breathed, “they
perfume the air.”
She
explained, “That’s the shampoo. You’re smelling my hair.
“My darling,” he pressed, passionate
yet refined;
“I simply cannot get you out of my
mind.”
And then, satisfied he’d achieved full
romance
He hummed quite tone deafly and asked,
“Shall we dance?”
But what would’ve come next, well, I’m
sure no one knows,
For as he stepped backwards he met with
the hose.
His ankles entangled, he dropped all
discussion;
Landing on a trowel he received a
concussion.
Oh, Mary! Oh, Mary, he meant to
propose!
If only, if only, that ill-fated hose!
But some things shall not be—he had not
even kissed her;
Turns
outs just as well—it was her sister.
