Happy 68th Birthday Maryann Sage Revisited January 12th 2021

Happy 68th birthday MaryAnn Sage - revisited January 12th, 2021 Wherever you might be holed up within this whirled wide web wassup? Mein kampf still equals board hardscrabble existence deplored analogous to Norwegian bachelor, whose Lake Wobegon nestled within fjord forcing me to hoard memories regarding our long ago short lived relationship and mine present married life inured absolutely zero points within game of life scored. Approximately three score minus seven years ago this then naïve and innocent early twenty something, now a middle aged, diamond in the rough, jaded two plus decades slavish married male did not realize his fair maiden perfect form, she a capricorn (who also shared same January 13th birthday as myself, though a half dozen years Mycenae senior hovered in mine immediate proximity, a mere hello kitty whisker away, which accompanying cat’s eye soft nose smart pet appetite saw me weight tool screwed up to revere mother of pearl opal mate ideal beau now ex post facto finds yours truly ruing foregone soul mate to crow in vain, though I cannot help pining and lamenting where art thou – dow ting she (MaryAnn Sage, a young whirled, wide webbed childless divorcee, a couple of years shy of thirty) ponders whereabouts of this contemplative, furtive and intuitive paramour, whence swooning swain first experienced anew an alien emotional lightness of being within mine hardened carapace did brew a propensity to surmise, intuit, and detect a romantic joyful dew drop similar to lovers in dustbin of historical annals dipped ‘ere farewell flew common as the air we breathe, this new found muse sic cull passion grew yet handled with kid gloves, which lacked the means to nurture and hue a novel interpersonal ecstasy, which with fits and starts knew tony yen physics manifested into a mutual attraction despite any self-admission new to this chap, whose skills sans intimacy infantile and as a result inadvertently caused grief to a gal, (who valiantly christened her vehicle Ruby) hoping to stride down the pew which outcome thwarted, now tis much more sands of mine lifetime funneled down the hourglass shaped queue without any rhyme nor reason find this bard **** to rue how a golden opportunity indiscriminately lost a flickr and sentiments now akin to culinary Michelin patschke stew rather futile to ruminate the long lapsed travails that tripped a true lee darling dame, whose take on the matter, this poet would cherish a view yet….nary a clue exists if any possibility to revisit that denouement recalling the awkward fits and starts before embers of warm reciprocity kindled reciprocal an ambition to court, jest and indubitably woo to flip and shutterfly at greased lightning speed back to that contra dance at Summit Presbyterian Church at the crossroads of Green and Westview Avenue.