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Poem
I sat upon a wooden bench 
    to rest my weary limbs.
And marveled at a Thrasher's voice
     who sang a pastoral hymn.
Where joggers passed in groups of two 
    and meekly offered up a smile.
While wearing clothes and Nike shoes 
    that had set them back a mile.

I gazed upon our river ...that flowed deep 
    from a summer pour.
Where bits of wood and frothy foam 
    raced along the shore.
On the other bank I could see Pelicans 
    who were the real stars.
Since the widest spot from where I sat 
    was only twenty yards.

But not just birds were on my mind 
    as I watched the other side.
There sat a lonely girl
    who had caught my rambling eye.
So even as her face was lost 
    to a distance equally shared.
I felt a strong attraction 
    to which I was now aware.

Such a silly notion now occupied my soul
     And yet...
What couple does not have a story 
    of how the lovers met?
Stranger things have happened 
    to people who I know.
Where by chance a brief encounter 
    did allow true love to grow.

Would she find me funny 
    and share a deep desire
        to hold my hand in times of stress 
            when she's down and tired?
Would she call me every night 
    to tell me of her day
        and every morning bring me coffee
            from our favorite French Cafe?

Would she cry at every movie 
    where a puppy's in distress?
And wander my apartment 
    in a state of partial dress.
We would be so happy...that soon 
    we've have to make a plan.
To be quickly married, have some kids 
    and buy a mini-van.

I walked up to the river's edge 
    to continue with my silly game.
Where across from me the girl rose 
    and did the very same.
We both stood there for a moment
     and before I did my part.
She raised her arm and waved at me, 
    I nearly lost my heart.

I returned her wave when at that moment 
    a voice boomed from the ridge.
I turned to see a man who yelled,
     'Honey, I will meet you at the bridge.'
They both scurried off in the direction 
    the Man had specified.
While I stood there at the river's edge 
    more than a little mortified.

I shook my head at the silliness
    and let out a cushioned sigh.
And wondered why a summer love 
    was content to pass me by?
I am not embarrassed by the shame
    because taking any risk is free
        and as Shakespeare said to the game of love, 
           'What fools we mortals be.'


                  The End



*For anyone interested, I will be posting my cartoon, 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my home page every second day'
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