I remember
that once-upon-a day, long ago when we met,
You were
nothing special; my friends scathed & made a bet,
That I´d
never be attracted to you & your olde-world style,
No modern
clothes & hair of those times & a too shy smile,
You weren’t
handsome, not very dark, nor fair & not very tall,
No glossy
hair, in fact you were going quite bald, I now recall,
You wore
little round spectacles upon your large crooked nose,
But my silly
heart skipped a beat as you proffered a single rose.
I fell
hopelessly in love with a man, who still doffed his old felt hat,
Who when
entering my heart & home, wiped his feet upon the mat,
A man who
stood up from the table, when I entered or left the room,
He who pulled
out my chair as I sat & talked of butterflies & the moon,
That gentle
man, the gentleman who bent & kissed my waiting hand,
Who would
open doors & brush away life´s irritating crumbs & sand,
He who cited
poetry, sang old songs, painted the sea & ancient trees,
That man of
tender touch & who speaks words of the dancing breeze.
You´ve gone
back to heaven now, sitting by lucky God´s right hand side,
In this neon
world I stay, but without you, I would rather skulk & hide,
My dear man I
miss your gentle wooing, of our very many happy years,
Your wise &
softly spoken words, banishing all my sad & worldly tears,
Protecting arm around my shoulder & the nightly
rose upon my pillow,
And those evenings
we spent talking, under the shady summer willow,
Now all I have
are dusty hands, of your ashes I´ve sadly freely scattered,
But in your years
of gentle wooing, you´ve bequeathed me what has mattered.
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