The Poet In Me

Gentlemen,

I'm afraid

I'm a sucker for the pageant

A fool for the parade

Of long eyelashes

And lips of red

And the blue summer dress

That goes to my head

Like the thirteenth swallow

That kills the bottle

Oh!, but wakens the poet in me

Gentlemen,

I'm convinced

I was captured at twelve

Been a prisoner ever since

Ilsa was older

Two years or so

The mane of a lion

The eyes of a doe

Adept at signs

We could've been mimes

Oh!, but she brought out the poet in me

Tomato sauce simmers

The grapes are so sour

All tied in the ninth

A sweet summer night

"Candy Girl", sings

The blue metal flaked Stingray

You and your friend

At the street corner light

Gentlemen,

That's my case

It rests in the breast

And thrills to the face

The way every light

Is soft on her shoulder

And the catch in her voice

And I know I must hold her

And love her, I will

For I’m nothing until

She brings out the poet in me

© 2013 by Bob Warren