Proposal
She lay slipping into slumber, gently dreaming,
her tousled hair draped across her down pillow,
dwelling on the memory, her face beaming
of his proposal under the willow.
Kneeling at eternity’s edge, he paused,
his knees soiled and sweat on his brow,
not aware of the anxiety he caused,
as she awaited his solemn vow.
He but a poor lad afraid he’d be denied,
with ring of tin foil he muffled his plea,
she, so joyful she cried,
no one could be as happy as she.
She crooned to her husband, “do you remember that time?”
"Of course my love, he smiled. We were only nine…."
.
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2011
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