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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He said I was oxygen That he couldn’t live without He said I was the ideal That he wanted for a wife He flattered and he praised me Made me feel like a princess No one else came even close His desires he’d thus confess He’d waited for me for years Desperate to be my man He did ask me more than once To please love him if I can And then I tumbled headlong Into this prince charming’s arms I pledged him eternal love I succumbed to his sweet charms Many years have passed and now We are both set to get old But at times my heart just mourns For a love that’s getting cold For though we still make music To a rhythm all our own That hungry look has just gone The passion that I have known “My love, you’re my oxygen, You’re the life that I inhale!” Tell me, though, my beloved Has that oxygen gone stale? Am I the carbon dioxide That you are quick to expel? Need a fresh O2 supply That enlivens every cell? My love, if I’m no longer The breath that gives you your life Remember I’m still that girl You desired for a wife! Eileen Manassian Ghali PS...Soupers, I often tease my husband about this oxygen thing. I guess it is inevitable that somewhere along the line...the mad frenzy of love mellows to a comfortable rhythm. Of course, love needs nurture! I read once that someone told a marriage counselor, "My husband and I are like a comfortable pair of old sneakers," to which she replied, "That's alright, as long as you remember, old sneakers need to dance every now and then!" :) Get the music going!
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