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Poem

Her pipes are all frozen,
Or, at least, where I’m concerned;
I can’t seem to heat them up none,
Don’t know how to turn them on.

There was a time when they flowed freely,
I seemed to have the magic touch;
Now her pipes are all frozen,
And they don’t put out too much.

I’m not sure when the frost arrived or when it turned so cold
I can’t blame it on the plumbing, our houses aren’t that old
I can’t thaw them out with flowers, jewelry or a poem
I’ve tried everything I can think of to start a fire in our home

But,
Her pipes are all frozen,
Or, at least, where I’m concerned;
Makes me start to wonder if
Some other man now turns them on.

There was a time when they flowed freely,
I seemed to have the magic touch;
Now I can only touch my own pipe,
And I don’t like that as much.

I’ve covered them with blankets; warmed them with my body heat
But the closer I get, they more frozen yet, they seem from head down to her feet
I would say that I am sorry, but I’m not sure what I have done
The heat her pipes once contained, is somehow now long gone

Her pipes are all frozen,
Or, at least, where I’m concerned;
I can’t seem to heat them up none,
Don’t know how to turn them on.

There was a time when they flowed freely,
I seemed to have the magic touch;
Now her pipes are all frozen,
And they don’t put out too much.

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