A scattering of quizzical looks,
A flurry of meaningful hugs,
Why must my sad lady fair
Scare as if all men are thugs?
More than a pair of kisses &
A small certain of rolled up eyes;
With a hand-to-palm reflex too old—
Ma’am, unspoken thoughts aren’t all lies!
Just gimme some shelter:
Those northern storms boil up so fast.
I’m not very sure your fear and dread
Will all night gunk us up in the past.
Lovely one retired just last week,
Congrats on your monies independent,
But risk a chance with a dancer cheek-to-cheek
Before your tired heart is completely spent.
To those eyes whose tears have shed Afghani sands—
Find your calm and take hold of loving carefully hands.
He took her offered hand and into the surf they trod—
Milady and Milord, Milady and Milord.
She took and held his hand as into the grass they went—
The lady and the gent, the lady and the gent.
Chances and maybes risked and the future dawns anew—
Could be me and you, could be me and you.
Ten seconds to Midnight and looms a Happy New Year—
To all cherished and dear, to you all, cherished and dear!