How Lucky We Are
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Her delicate fingers fondle each piece
held above the puzzle, waiting release,
causing her concentration to increase.
A smile tugs at the corners of her lips,
and as the occasional swear word slips
she gives up, placing her hands on her hips.
I chuckle and she pretends to be mad,
and I reciprocate, looking so sad
she quickly relents, whispering, "my bad."
The puzzle is the last thing on my mind,
to doubt her beauty, I'd have to be blind,
for she's gorgeous, with a perfect behind.
I realize just how lucky we are,
like kids with our hands in the cookie jar,
in the eyes of each, the other's a star.
(Rhyme)
3/19/2017
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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