Kicking stones along gravel paths
A quiet forest walk
Alone with just my honey
Out loud to her I talk
She can't be physically with me
Though how I do wish that she could
And I think that she'd also want to be here
But there's that difference between wanting and should
What do I say to her out there
Alone among flowers and trees?
That's easy, I tell her I love her
And ask for her hand on one knee
With animals standing as witness
I walk with her holding my arm
Approaching a trellis of lilacs
The scene one of romance and charm
Together now, off to the banquet
A picnic set up by a lake
It's just her and I at the party
No fanfare, no speeches to make
I hear something off in the distance
A familiar musical theme
I open my eyes to my bedroom
And yearn to go back in that dream
Down by the only lily pond around here
the air is brisk and not particularly subtle
as it blows its windy nose.
It's not exactly a Monet painting
the setting is a little too municipal
and certainly not in winter,
but in a good light
it can be almost picturesque.
I conjure up some Debussy
replaying a favorite musical theme
in my slowly hissing mind
as it deflates and comes to rest.
In time, my thoughts
may dwell upon the pretty ladies
in their summer dresses
that sometimes visit
this unassuming spot,
but of course
not on a cold winters day.
No doubt I was born too late or early
to be a romantic
and my ass is getting chilled
on this stone bench
but damn it, with any luck
I will be back here in Spring
dewy eyed, and with
a melodic tune or song
pumping along
in my quixotic heart.
I might even bring the wife,
might even buy her a parasol.